The New Adventures of Old Pog
by Gryphinwyrm7
Summary: Old Pog was introduced in Gargoyles #8 Rock & Roll. Hatched in 1798 this garoyle is almost 200 years old. What kind of adventures has he had in his long life? Angels, Vampires, Sorcerors, & Oberon's Children: this London Gargoyle has seen & done it all!
1. The Amphora Pandora

**Gargoyles: The New Adventures of Old Pog**

**Disclaimer: **Gargoyles is property of Disney. Old Pog, or just Pog as he is called in this story, is a canon character and thus is property of Greg Weisman and Disney. All other characters are mine…mostly.

**Chapter 1: The Amphora Pandora**

_Into the Mystic, Soho District of London, 1840 AD_

"All right, mates," Lazarus said. "That's about it for tonight." The elderly griffin-like gargoyle, glowered at the young hatchlings that had been sent to take over the shop. Lazarus was over 300 years old, and while that was only the equivalent of a 150 year old human…that was still quite old.

Lazarus still remembered the days when Shakespeare walked the streets of London. Lazarus also had a reputation for being cantankerous and cranky; he was very possessive of the shop, which was the clan's only source of revenue. It wasn't easy to feed over 150 gargoyles, and pay taxes on _Knight's Spur _which was the clan's ancestral home.

Lazarus had run _Into the Mystic_ for the last 250 years, which was breaking with clan tradition. Typically the Stewardship of _Into the Mystic_ was passed on to a trio of young gargoyles every century, but Lazarus had resisted the change for the last two centuries. The clan respected their elders far too much, to deprive him of the shop, which was his pride and joy.

It was only now, under Fyn the new clan leader, that Lazarus had been forced to prepare the passing of the shop to three new stewards. As much as Lazarus had protested, the gargoyle was over three hundred years old…he could not be expected to care for the shop forever. Thus Lazarus had been forced to take on three new apprentices: Pog, Peryton, and Unette.

Peryton was a stag-like gargoyle, with very light brown colored fur and a rack of silver antlers. His feet ended in sharp talons, and his tail was leonine, with a furry little tuft at the end. He was lazy, and a bit of a jokester, as well as a ladies man…er ladies-goyle? It was to curb his lazy attitude that he had been chosen for the task of shopkeeper. He often dressed in blue and gold, and didn't seem to mind if his clothes clashed with his fur.

Unette was everything that Peryton was not. She had a very slender body, and looked far younger than she actually was…she—like Pog and Peryton—were all children of the 1798 rookery. This made them all 42; equivalent to 21 year old humans…but Unette looked like she we 13 or 14, not 21. She had pure white fur, and long curly blond hair that she always kept neat and clean, like she was going to be inspected, he unicorn like head had a long silver horn that—like most unicorn-gargoyles—she decorated with jewelry and such. Her feet ended in two nimble cloven hooves, which were as immaculately clean as the rest of her.

She was obsessed with learning to get everything right, to ensure that nothing went wrong. Fyn had felt that this sort of obsession would be useful at the shop, and Unette had already re-organized the magic books, and herbs. Lazarus however, found her mania annoying. Unette seemed to be the only female immune to Peryton's charms.

The last young gargoyle charged with shop keeping was Pog, taller than most of his rookery mates (not Peryton though, his antlers gave him the height advantage) Pog had dark brown fur and solid hoofed feet. His feathered wings were a lighter shade of brown, and he had a long bushy horse-like tail. He had an eagle-like beak and a full head of hair.

Pog favored blue and green outfits, and unlike Unette, didn't mind getting a little dirty. Despite this he was quite close with both Unette and Peryton.

"Sun's almost up," he said. "We'll finish this tomorrow night."

Pog placed the last book on the shelf and yawned, stretching his arms and wings. _Into the Mystic_ had been closed for over an hour, and so the gargoyles had removed their cloaks. The young gargoyles found the robes constricting, and weren't used to hiding their wings.

Lazarus had not removed his cloak, and had disapproved loudly of the younglings doing it. (What if some nosey human sees you through the window?) Lazarus's wings were so tattered and old that he couldn't glide anymore, so he kept his wings covered.

"This isn't nearly as hard as I thought it would be mates," Pog said grinning at his friends. Unette and Peryton grinned back.

"Let's see," Peryton said. "We've got the most prestigious jobs in the clan, the weather hasn't been abysmal lately…I think that the only thing needed to complete my life is for the most beautiful gargoyle in the clan to agree to be my mate."

He smiled wickedly. "How 'bout it love?" He turned and slid up next to Unette.

"In your dreams Peryton," Unette said rolling her eyes at the Stag-goyle and sliding away from him. A look of disappointment crossed his face.

"I'll wear you down eventually I think," Peryton exclaimed.

There came a sudden rapping at the shop door and the trio fell silent. Peryton quickly snatched their clocks off of the rack and tossed the robes to their respective owners. Pog, Unette, and Peryton rapidly cloaked themselves as Lazarus sneered at them and opened the door.

A tall man with a grey beard stepped into the shop; he eyed the store clerks with apprehension.

"I'm sorry sir," Lazarus said. "The shop's closed for the evening."

"I won't take long my friend," he said smiling calmly, he had a thick Scottish accent. "You see I'm not here to purchase your wares…I am in need of your services."

"I don't know what we could do for you," Lazarus said suspiciously. "We are but simple shop keeps."

"Aye," he said with a knowing gleam in his eye. "Shop keeps who happen to be gargoyles."

Lazarus's eyes widened. He said nothing more, but ushered the man inside. He glanced warily out to the darkened street.

"What can we do for mister…?"

"Macbeth, Lennox Macbeth," he said grinning, as if the name amused him somehow. Lazarus led them to a small alcove where the five of them sat down. The gargoyles regarded the Scotsman intently.

"A friend of mine once said there were no gargoyles left in England," Macbeth said. "I am pleased that he was wrong."

"So you know what we are," Pog said suspiciously, glaring at the stranger.

"Aye," Macbeth said. "And I believe that the aid of gargoyles will be necessary on a…venture that I am about to embark on."

"Why?" Peryton asked, just as suspicious as Pog.

"What do you know about the Amphora Pandora?" Macbeth asked.

Lazarus gasped.

"The Amphora Pandora," Unette said, as if she was in school. "I read about it in one of the books. More commonly called Pandora's Box, which is definitely a misnomer, it's not a box. It's a vase; an amphora.

"It was said to hold the evils that plagued mankind, which were released accidently by a woman named Pandora. In the 12th century Saint Francis went and trapped the evils back in the vase. The evils were then known as the 7 deadly sins. The amphora has been lost since then."

"Aye," Macbeth said nodding, clearly impressed by Unette's knowlege. "I've just learned that the amphora has been found by…an old acquaintance of mine."

The gargoyles looked at one another, clearly surprised by this news.

"She intends to use it," Macbeth continued. "She's found a spell that will supposedly allow her to control the terrors within…she intends to use the spell and unleash the Sins…and with them; destroy humanity."

"That's madness," Pog gasped.

"Aye, it is," Macbeth said. "Madness that I cannot stop on my own. I need help, she must be stopped; one way or another."

The young gargoyles stiffened at this ominous statement.

"I'm hoping it won't come to that," Macbeth said reassuringly. "But I'd like to bring some gargoyles along to talk her out of this course."

"She's one of us isn't she," Lazarus said. The young gargoyles looked surprised.

"Aye, I hope," Macbeth said. "I hope she isn't to far gone. Perhaps she'll listen to reason. Listen to her fellow gargoyles."

"I must discuss this with the clan leader," Lazarus said. "Return here in two nights and you'll have our answer."

"Thank you," Macbeth said turning and leaving. The four gargoyles watched the man go in silence. They made their way to the shop's roof in preparation for the dawn.

"If Fyn says yes," Lazarus said. "You three shall be going with him."

Pog, Peryton, and Unette exchanged glances as the sun rose and froze the four gargoyles in place.

Macbeth watched the gargoyles change from across the street, and then turned and left, headed down to the docks and hoping he could stop his "old acquaintance" in time.


	2. The Big not so Easy

**Gargoyles: The New Adventures of Old Pog**

**Disclaimer: **Gargoyles is property of Disney. Old Pog, or just Pog as he is called in this story, is a canon character and thus is property of Greg Weisman and Disney. All other characters are mine…mostly.

**Chapter 2: The Big Not so Easy **

_New Orleans Harbor, 1840 AD_

"I think I'm going to be ill," Peryton said gagging. He slipped to the side of the boat and hung his head over the side. Pog and Unette exchanged a glance. Peryton had been like this the entire trip.

"How can you be sea-sick?" Pog demanded of his stag-like friend. "You glide every night. Gargoyles should be incapable of seasickness. It's the same, you're going up and down, up and down on the wind currents."

"Ugh," Peryton choked. "Pog stop it…this isn't helping."

Unette giggled extremely girlishly. Pog smiled and grinned. "Up and down, up and down, up and down."

"Gah!" Peryton retched.

"We'll be making port presently my friends," Macbeth said joining the trio of gargoyles on the port side of the boat. "Welcome to New Orleans."

_Two and a Half Months Earlier…_

"I think that Lazarus is right," Fyn sighed. The young griffin-esque leader of the clan scowled at the elder. "Though I am not happy about him sending you away from the shop, the Amphora Pandora is too great an opportunity to pass up."

The trio gave each other a glance. They knew what Fyn meant by that. They were to acquire the Amphora for the shop if they could.

"And dangerous," Pog interrupted. "The vase contains the Seven Deadly Sins. It seems awfully risky."

"Fair enough," Fyn responded, looking intently at the younger hippogriff—gargoyle. "We should acquire it for just that reason…too dangerous to have out in the streets."

"So we all have to go," Unette interjected. She ruffled her immaculate feathered wings uncomfortably. "I was hoping to stay here and help Lazarus reorganize the cellar."

Lazarus looked panic stricken at this.

"No Unette," Fyn said sighing. "You need some real-world experience. You three shall go with this Macbeth and get the Amphora…without opening or breaking it. Be wary, I don't trust this Scott…I do not think his reasons for enlisting our aid are entirely altruistic."

"And I get the shop to myself right?" Lazarus asked.

Fyn smiled. "Not exactly…you get me, until these three return."

Lazarus visibly dropped.

"Are you sure we're ready for something like this?" Unette asked, looking nervously at her rookery brothers, who seemed far too eager to go on this mission.

"You're 42," Fyn said. "That's plenty old enough. Did Macbeth say where you would be going?"

"He neglected to mention it."

_New Orleans Docks; Two and a half months later_

"Why hasn't this gargoyle just opened the Amphora already anyway," Peryton wondered aloud, trying to distract himself from the rocking.

"What are you stupid?" Unette said in irritation. The gargoyles tossed the ropes to the harbor master as Macbeth's sailing ship pulled into the marina. The trio had pulled their hoods up over their faces so that no one could see _what_ they were…though this did not work on Peryton…his antlers being too obvious. Only Unette and Pog were helping out the harbor master. Peryton stayed just out of sight.

"A spell such as the one that this gargoyle is proposing is delicate," Pog explained. "The Seven Deadly Sins aren't Third Race or something simple that can be bound in iron. They're demons…actual hell-spawned Fallen Angels with the power to influence the three races."

"I thought demons were like big bat things with horns," Peryton said looking surprised. The harbor master had tied the ship to the dock, and gestured to the crew that they could disembark. Most of Macbeth's crew had been paid triple to simply ignore the strange passengers…but superstitious sailors are still superstitious sailors. They wanted off that ship.

"No," Unette said irritated. "Those 'demons' are based on gargoyles, or false human perceptions of our race. Real demons have no actual bodies…but they can possess bodies of mortals. Take them over and control them like some sort of parasite or puppet."

"So a demon could…" Peryton asked as they watched the last of Macbeth's crew leave the ship. Macbeth stood next to the harbor master and paid the man. He waited patiently as the man turned and left…giving the gargoyles a chance to leave the ship.

"Take over your body and control your actions," Unette confirmed with a satisfied smirk. "They can do this to any human or gargoyle. Only Oberon's Children are immune."

"Enough hatchlings," Pog said getting in between his two friends…his usual position. "Macbeth's ready for us and it's not long before dawn."

"Anyway," Unette said. "She needs to gather ingredients to control the demons, and most of those ingredients can only be purchased here…in New Orleans."

"How do you know?" Peryton quipped. Pog rolled his eyes. "Peryton we own a Magic shop!"

"Oh…right," Peryton said looking abashed. That was his sign telling him when he'd said something really dumb…when it was Pog and not Unette telling him how dumb he was being.

"All right," Macbeth said, joining the trio as they walked to the land. "You three scope things out by the air. She'll most likely travel that way. I'm going to call in a few favors with some old contacts of mine. You should be fine during the day…this is the kind of city a gargoyle's stone form won't be noticed in."

Pog nodded at that, it was due to the French influence. New Orleans, like Paris, had dozens of gargoyles already built into the architecture. All they needed to do was find an open spot and they were invisible.

"We'll meet up at St. Louis Cathedral an hour after sunset," Macbeth said. "Be careful. Demona is a tricky one."

The gargoyles nodded as Macbeth disappeared down a misty cobblestone road. The gargoyles removed their cloaks and began climbing a nearby building, getting enough altitude to take swiftly to the air.

Nor did they have long to wait after they went skyward.

"We're in luck!" Peryton exclaimed. He pointed down to a nearby building. "Look! A female gargoyle!"

"Are you sure?" Unette asked. But even as she said it, both she and Pog could see the feminine form darting behind a spire.

"I think I've studied the female form a bit more than you have dear Unette." Peryton grinned lecherously. "Right Pog?"

"Leave me out of this." Pog said. The trio swiftly came for a landing on the building top.

"All right Demona," Pog said. We just want to ta—,"

Pog never finished his sentence; because there was not one female gargoyle behind the spire…there were three, and all of their eyes were glowing bright crimson.

"I think we may be in trouble," Pog said to his companions.

_**To Be Continued…**_


	3. The French Quarter

**Gargoyles: The New Adventures of Old Pog**

**Disclaimer: **Gargoyles is property of Disney. Old Pog, or just Pog as he is called in this story, is a canon character and thus is property of Greg Weisman and Disney. All other characters are mine…mostly.

**Chapter 3: The French Quarter**

_New Orleans, 1840 AD_

The tension on the rooftop was thicker than molasses. The three female gargoyles glared at the three London gargoyles, the former's eyes blazing crimson. They were however; very attractive females…enough so, that Peryton couldn't help himself.

"I take it back," Peryton said grinning and leering at the trio of female gargoyles. "This makes that whole damn trip across the Atlantic worth it…hello ladies."

He smiled lecherously, Pog and Unette looked at one another, grabbed him by the wings and pulled him backwards.

The three female gargoyles had stopped snarling and were looking at one another in confusion. Clearly they had been expecting someone, but it was not these London gargoyles. They began whispering to one another in French.

"I don't think any of them are Demona, Pog," Unette said eyeing the three female gargoyles carefully. "They're French. Demona's Scottish."

"Macbeth never said…wait, how do you know that they're French?" Pog asked.

Unette smiled and gestured. "Look at them." The tallest female had dark brown fur and skin, with long reddish hair and big eyes. Her face was very humanoid, unlike the Heraldic London gargoyles, but she had an upturned bat-like nose and large ears, also extremely bat-like.

The second had lime green colored fur and raven black hair, but had the same bat-like face and ears. She was eying Pog and Peryton suspiciously, not like she didn't trust them, but rather like they would vanish, like they weren't real.

The third female looked at the London gargoyles in wonder; as if all of her dreams had just come true…she had peach colored fur and blond hair. She let out a sharp squeal and began whispering to the green-skinned female.

The tallest stepped forward cautiously and looked them over. Finally she said in a tentative voice. "_Vous sont les gargouilles_?"

Unette laughed and stepped forward. "_Oui, nous sommes des gargouilles. Nous sommes du clan à Londres. Je suis Unette, le cerf est Peryton, et le hippogryph est Pog. C'est un plaisir pour vous rencontrer._"

The Red-Headed gargoyle looked shocked, and quickly grabbed the two other gargoyles, took them aside and began speaking in French.

"You speak French?" Peryton asked looking at Unette in astonishment. "I can't believe it."

Unette winked at Pog and smiled. "I also speak Spanish and German."

"So they're French?" Pog asked again, looking at Unette curiously. Unlike Peryton he had an idea as to how intelligent and well read Unette was. Clearly Fyn was right to send her on this task.

Unette nodded. "There was this clan, um…back in the 12th century I think," she said. "They lived in a monastery and were sort of a refuge for gargoyles from all over the world…their leader wrote a series of books about gargoyle ethnicity. Even classified them into terms. He could tell where a gargoyle came from by the way that they looked. It was a fascinating read…you have to check it out sometime."

"I think I will," Pog said looking at the French gargoyles, who were whispering to one another, they paused and looked at the Londoners. The peach-colored female smiled and said loudly: "_Pog, vous êtes très beau. Serez-vous mon amant ? Je le ferais la valeur votre pendant que, vous ne seriez jamais parti vouloir si vous savez que je signifie._"

What did she say?" Pog asked looking confused. "I heard my name."

Unette blushed, turning her white horse-like face a deep pink. "Um…she fancies you. I think that I'll just leave it at that."

It was Pog's turn to blush. He glanced over at the females, who began giggling loudly. "Okay…um…new subject. How can you tell that they're French?"

"It's about physical features," Unette said. "We're Heraldic, we have feathered wings and animal-like heads…the French gargoyles were said to have bat-like forms and their females were prettier than the males. The Scottish and German gargoyles are supposed to look…well, demonic…I also heard that there were serpentine gargoyles too, Heck there are probably a lot of other ethnic groups, but the book was written in the 12th century…not a lot of travel in those days. I think that they want to talk to us."

Unette gestured. Pog and Peryton turned to see the three females looking at them expectantly.

"_Je pense que vous devez voir notre dirigeant de clan, Charlebois,_" the red-headed female said. "_Elle parle l'anglais. Lavue et Angelique vous prendront au Manoir de Hugo, notre maison_."

"What did she say?" Peryton asked. Looking at Unette helplessly. Unette furrowed her brow. "She wants us to go home with them. To their clan. Their leader speaks English."

"Can we?" Peryton said excitedly.

"Should we?" Pog asked, looking at his rookery brother in annoyance. The stag-goyle sometimes did not think with his brain. "Macbeth said that we needed to find Demona. The Amphora Pandora? Is any of this ringing a bell?"

"We can look for Demona," Peryton said grinning. "In the direction of their home. Come on Pog…please!!"

Pog frowned, somehow he'd been named unofficial leader of this expedition. Peryton and Unette were looking to him.

"Well," Pog murmured. "Fyn did say not to trust Macbeth…all right."

"_Approuver, nous irons avec vous. Nous mener là,_" Unette said. The red-head smiled.

"_Ceci est Angelique_." She said pointing to the peach-colored gargess. She then turned toward the green gargoyle. "_Et ceci est Lavue, ils vous prendront pour voir Charlebois._"

"Okay," Unette said. "The green gargoyle is Lavue, and the blond is Angelique. They're going to lead us to their home."

The red-haired gargoyle placed her hands on the two females and led them slightly off to the side. Unette frowned and pricked her ears up to hear them.

"_Girls, be carefull. I know how much you want mates, but we have not any reason to trust these English gargoyles. For all to know us, they are here to injure us, or stop the Railroad. Vigilant Etre," _The red-head said. The two young female gargoyles looked crestfallen for has moment, then she smiled._ "Of course it does not injure to flirt with them, to distract them._"

All three girls giggled for a moment, and then Angelique and Lavue signaled Pog, Unette, and Peryton to follow. The five gargoyles unfurled their wings and began to follow the currents towards the west.

The wind was not strong, and as a result the gargoyles had to glide far lower than they naturally would have liked. The trio remained silent, trying to think of the implications of this French clan in the heart of New Orleans.

At one point they swung close to the harbor once more and passed over an auction block where a dark-skinned human was being led up onto a stage by other humans of lighter skin.

"_Le marché pour les esclaves. Dégoût!_" Angelique snarled in detestation. Her eyes flashed crimson.

"Slave markets," Unette translated. The London gargoyles looked at one another. Britain had outlawed slavery 7 years earlier, and it had been out of favor even earlier than that.

The wind took the gargoyles out of the city and swept them into the bayou. There was a sharp turn, and the "French" gargoyles swept to the right, the Londoners following them.

They glided over the water for about twenty minutes, Lavue and Angelique occasionally calling back instructions in French that Unette had to translate. Pog found gliding in a swamp to be hard, there was little wind, and the humidity was murder on his feathered wings. He could tell that Unette however, had it much worse.

Unette had always been obsessively clean since she was a hatchling, ever since she'd heard of "germs" she'd lived in mortal fear of catching something, though gargoyles seldom, if ever got sick. Her white fur was always pristine, and Pog had once caught her cleaning between the "toes" of her cloven hoof. Pog never cleaned his hooves.

Pog could see how nervous she was as she kept glancing at the muddy marsh water. He rolled his eyes and glided up next to her, indicating he'd try and catch her if she fell in the waterway. The gargoyles suddenly came to a large clearing, where there were no trees

There, sitting in the middle of the swamp, on an island, was a large mansion. The island acted as a sort of moat, and Pog could see four sentry gargoyles posted at the four corners of the mansion. He noted the manor was significantly smaller than _Knight's Spur_, maybe only half the size…perhaps less.

The sentries looked surprised by the arrival of the three British gargoyles, so much so that they forgot that they were sentries and moved closer to take a look at the strangers. Pog noticed with some apprehension that of the four sentries only one, a large gargoyle who looked like an oversized bat, was male.

Several more gargoyles, four more females and two more males, stepped out onto the roof as Pog, Unette, Peryton, and the local gargoyles landed atop the manor.

"Kinda reminds you of_ Knight's Spur_," Peryton said.

"Not really," Pog answered, looking out onto the bayou. He sniffed loudly, the swamp smell bothered him a great deal, and he could see how much Unette cared for this manor…it was a lot dirtier than _Knight's Spur_, and…well, the mansion looked a little run down.

"_We are here. Welcome, Gargoyles of London, to the pride of the south. The first stop on the Underground Railroad and the house of the clan of New Orleans: Hugo Manoir._"

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The slave, Jacob Sweet, was slowly dragged onto the auction block. He looked weary and downtrodden, as did most of the slaves in the nearby corners. He closed his eyes has the auctioneer stepped up and began talking.

"Okay ladies and gentlemen," the auctioneer said grinning. "This here's Jacob, we call him Jacob Sweet, because of his sweet disposition. He is big, big enough that you can use him for any kind of work that needs muscle…as you may have noticed, he's huge. He can lift an entire cotton gin…I kid you not. So, shall we start the bidding at one hundred dollars?"

"One Hundred," "We have One hundred, for a man who clearly sees the value of a man of this size."

"One-Fifty" "We have 150"

"Two hundred," "We have 200"

"One Thousand Dollars," a new voice shouted.

The crowd fell silent.

"One Thousand dollars," the auctioneer said greedily. Jacob looked up at the man in surprise as well.

"Going once," he said. "Going twice, sold! To the man in the black in the back."

The man nodded curtly and walked stepped forward. He handed the auctioneer his gold and lead Sweet away.

"Well," Sweet said. "You've bought me. Where shall we go?"

"How interested are you in freedom?" the man said. Sweet looked surprised. "Very," he said, eyes widening. "If I were free…I could find my brother Moses…he's a Freeman living in Newport, Indiana."

"You help me with one task," the man said smiling. "And I'll set you free."

"Yes sir," Sweet said, looking surprised and happy at the same time. "What are we doing?"

"I'll not lie to you," the man said, the faintest traces of a Scottish accent now tickling his words. "It's a doozy, or I wouldn't have paid so much for you."

Sweet looked apprehensive.

"My name is Gavin Canmore," he said smiling. "And we're hunting for a Demon."

_**To Be Continued…**_


	4. The Underground Railroad

**Gargoyles: The New Adventures of Old Pog**

**Disclaimer: **Gargoyles is property of Disney. Old Pog, or just Pog as he is called in this story, is a canon character and thus is property of Greg Weisman and Disney. All other characters are mine…mostly.

**Chapter 4: The Underground Railroad **

_Hugo Manor, New Orleans, 1840 AD_

Lavue walked up to a tall female with yellow skin and fur, she had an unusual wing configuration, two wing fingers, and a third finger that extended halfway down her wing, and the abruptly stopped, webbed together with the ribbing of her main wing. Like all of the New Orleans clan that Pog had seen so far, she had an upturned bat-nose, and large bat-like ears.

"_Charlebois. We met these gargoyles while awaiting Demona. They claim to be of a clan in London. They look... strange, I never saw wings with feathers before, but they are gargoyles, their odor confirms it_," Lavue said in rapid-fire French, too fast for Unette to translate.

Charlebois, the yellow gargoyle turned and looked at the Londoners inquisitively. "_Really? London? I had heard rumors that a clan had survived London, but never dreamed them to be true. This is a such big city, and there is so many humans. _"

"_The small one that looks like a Unicorn speaks French, the males do not do. Dia thought we should bring them here, because, as you suspected Demona lied us," _Lavue continued.

Charlebois nodded and turned towards the visiting London gargs. Unette looked annoyed, she could speak French, but Lavue and Charlebois had purposely spoken too fast for Unette to catch.

"Welcome to New Orleans," she said smiling. "I can't believe you're actually here."

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Macbeth entered the parlor of the old shop and cautiously looked around. Places like the _It is Nought Voodoo_ always made him uneasy. There's magic, and then there's dark magic, and New Orleans seemed to attract the darkest magic.

Macbeth looked around at the bottles and vials of various poisons. At the shrunken heads and Voodun dolls. The shop seemed empty…but Macbeth knew better than to think that.

"Madam Tia?" he called out curiously. "Madam, are you here."

"Well, well," a thick Jamaican accent called out. "Macbeth mac Findleach. Always knew you was gonna come crawling back tru my doors."

"I dinnae have time for this Tia," Macbeth said in annoyance. "Is _he_ here right now?"

Tia looked surprised. "De situation 'ave to be pretty bad if Macbeth mac Findleach is looking for the _void_."

"The situation is worse than you know," Macbeth said grimly. "Soon though, it will be over; once and for all."

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"My family has tracked this Demon for almost 900 years," Gavin Canmore said. "Each time someone gets close, she manages to escape us yet again, but this time will be the last. We'll finish off the Demon, and the hunt will finally be over."  
"If this thing has been alive for over 900 years," Sweet said looking at his new master in confusion. "What on earth makes you think that _you'll_ take her down? It seems to me that she's got enough experience fighting your family that at this point you can't win."

Gavin looked annoyed. "I didn't ask for your opinion."

Sweet shrugged. "You're the boss. Where to?"

Gavin smiled, pulling out a mask with three red slashes on it and putting it on his head. "I've tracked her down to this city, she's a crafty one, and she's planning something…something big."

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"Our clan came here from Paris in 1719," Charlebois said as the walked along the corridors of the manor. "Only a year after New Orleans was founded."

The hallways were yellowed with age, and a number of oil paintings hung on the wall, showing pictures of French gargoyles boarding a ship, with hatchlings and humans.

"We wanted to get away from France," She said turning. "We didn't feel safe anymore, and when the clan had the chance to go to the New World, a relatively unexplored untouched place…"

"You jumped at it?" Pog guessed. Charlebois nodded. "We built Hugo Manor ourselves; we purposely designed it to look ratty and uninhabited. So that no one would want it."

"You did a smashing job," Unette said dryly as glanced around at the hall. She lifted up her hoof and looked down at the carpet in disgust. It did look like the manor would fall apart any second.

"It's an illusion," Charlebois said smiling. "If a human finds this place during the day, he'd never dream it was inhabited. He'd think that the manor is on its last legs."

"Amazing," Pog said. Grinning as he looked at a painting of a male French gargoyle dressed in turn-of the century apparel.

"Yes, well," Charlebois looked down ashamed. "It has not worked out for the best. We are a dying clan."

Pog and Unette stopped and looked at one another. "How so?" Unette ventured.

"You may have noticed that there aren't very many males around here," Charlebois said sighing. "In truth, we have only 5 males, and 14 females. Our clan was always small, but in the last three rookeries, we've had only two males hatch, both of them in the 1798 rookery. Our clan stands no chance of survival unless some new blood is brought in."

Something clicked in Pog's head right then. "Oh…you mean us."

Unette rolled her eyes. Peryton was going to love this; he'd started flirting with several girls upon arrival, and they'd dragged him off to show him something in the conservatory.

"Yes," Charlebois said looking at them hopefully. "Two healthy young male gargoyles dropped from nowhere? It's as if you were sent to us."

Pog and Unette looked at each other. Pog had frankly never thought about taking a mate. He had plenty of time…or so he thought. The breeding night was still 8 years off. There were several females that Pog fancied; Leona, Kitsa, Charlotte, and even Unette…an opinion he would not have the courage to tell her to her face.

"Peryton's going to be overjoyed," Pog said looking at his rookery sister. "I'm not sure how much help we can be though; there are only two of us. There are nineteen of you."

Charlebois nodded understandingly. "Of course…and we'd never force you into something you did not want…but I've got a mate, and so do Trystal and Roxana. And old Thembreil, he lost his mate after their fist egg. Though it tends against gargoyle nature…Thembreil is courting two girls from the youngest breeding generation for the sake of the clan."

Pog nodded. That meant nine available females that would be pursuing Peryton and himself. He got a headache just thinking about it.

"There is another solution," Unette interjected with a wry look on her face. "Our clan has 167 members: and quite a few unmated males."

"Are you serious?!" Charlebois exclaimed. "A clan of over a hundred gargoyles is living in one of the largest cities on earth?!"

"Um…well, yeah," Pog said. He turned and looked at Unette. "How many gargoyles is _Knight's Spur _capable of supporting?"

She shrugged. "In theory, about three hundred. It's a theory we've never had to test though; the clan's never been bigger than 250 gargoyles at a time. Due to our breeding policy."

"What breeding policy?" Charlebois asked, looking very surprised.

"Enforced isolation during the female's final heat." Unette said. "Limits the clan to two eggs per lifetime instead of three. It's not an absolute rule, but generally it's the clan's policy. Keeps us from outgrowing _Knight's Spur_—our ancestral home."

Charlebois's jaw simply dropped. "_Ce n'est pas possible…it's juste simplement pas possible. Cent et soixante-sept ? A Londres ?"_

"I assure you it is possible," Unette said. "Our clan is experts at hiding in plain sight. We legally own the land that _Knight's Spur_ rests on, that's part of the reason why we're undisturbed."

"Your clan could join us," Pog said turning and looking Charlebois in the eye. "As Unette said, there's plenty of room."

"_Merci beaucoup_, Pog," Charlebois said smiling and shaking her head. "But our clan is needed here, and I'll show you why."

She led the pair down a set of stairs that led to the lower levels of the manor. They quietly entered the cellar, which initially looked like an abandoned wine cellar. A tall light-skinned man in his 40s with a strong cleft chin and dressed in Quaker clothes was helping four darker skinned humans into a tunnel. He glanced up at Charlebois as she came down.

"Is that the last of them Charlebois?" he asked, as he ushered a mother and child into the tunnel. A tall dark-skinned man, with muscles upon muscles nodded to the light-skinned man and ducked into the tunnel. The Quaker slid the wine-rack into place, completely sealing up the tunnel, and presenting the façade that there was no tunnel at all.

"No," Charlebois said shaking her head. "Thembreil is bringing four more down in a few minutes."

He nodded somberly, then he cocked his head at Unette and Pog, noticing them for the first time.

"Levi," Charlebois said smiling. "This is Unette and Pog, they came from London. Apparently there is a clan still living in London."

"A pleasure," he said smiling. He removed his hat and bowed for a moment, then he took Unette's hand and kissed it.

"Pog, Unette," Charlebois continued. "This is Levi Coffin. Some call him the 'president' of the Underground Railroad."

Levi frowned. "It's really a group effort."

"Underground Railroad?" Pog asked confused.

"Helping 'slaves' escape to the north," Charlebois snarled at the word 'slave' as though it filled her with contempt. Her eyes even flashed crimson.

"That's a very noble cause," Unette said, she turned and looked at Levi. "It doesn't bother you that you're working with gargoyles?"

Levi looked taken aback. "Who am I to question the will of the Almighty? Clearly he gave you and your kin the power of speech, for all I know, you're entertaining angels. If He can give a donkey the power of discourse, he can certainly do it with stone statues. I know not how He made you, I only know that you seek to do what's right, that's what matters to me."

It was Unette's turn to look taken aback. "That's a very wise attitude for a human to have."

"I just try to follow out the teachings of the Good Book," Levi responded. "I don't claim to do anything else. It's always safe to do right."

The large black gargoyle that looked like an oversized bat came down the stairway. "_J'ai plus de fugitifs dans le foyer ici. Vous voulez qu'ils soit venu maintenant ? C'est presque l'aube._"

"_Vous remercier Thembreil, mais cela n'est pas nécessaire. Levi peut les prendre dans le tunnel. Nous devons nous reposer_," Charlebois responded.

"It is nearly dawn," she said turning to Pog and Unette. "We would be honored if you would roost with us."

"The honor is ours," Pog said nodding. The three gargoyles trudged up the stairs and onto the roof, where Peryton was already waiting for them. He grinned at his rookery siblings.

"I've died," he said. "I've died and gone to heaven, but they decided that I was ready for Heaven yet, and so they sent me to the New Orleans where they're in desperate need of males."

He climbed onto a nearby perch and gripped it with his bird-like talons, flaring his wings and preparing for stone sleep.

Pog climbed onto an empty perch of his own, and looked uncomfortably at several females who were giggling and pointing at him. He planted his hooves firmly on the pedestal, not wanting to fall off of his roost during the day, as it was easier for hoofed gargoyles to do.

He glanced over at Unette, who had taken a similar stance. She kept looking down at the murky swamp-water and shuddering.

Pog noticed a male red-furred gargoyle, with a large beak, and the standard French attributes of a bat nose and ears talking with Charlebois. It took the hippogriff garg a moment to realize that he must be Charlebois' mate.

Each gargoyle snarled as they greeted the new day. There was a sound like the grinding of gravel, and each gargoyle became petrified.

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"She was here," Gavin said to Sweet. The pair of them looked around the wreckage of what had been 'Raven Dracken's Voodun Parlor' a hot spot for the acquisition of unusual spell ingredients in New Orleans.

The place had been torn apart, and there were shattered vials, and claw marks embedded into the solid stone walls. Sweet's eyes bugged out as he saw the body of Raven Dracken, the shop's proprietor lying in the corner.

"The Demon did this," Canmore said bending down. "What are you up to?"

"What could make claw marks in solid stone?" Sweet murmured aloud to himself."

"We need to take inventory," Canmore said looking up at Sweet. "We need to know what she took."

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Macbeth waited on the corner of Bourbon Street for a little over an hour after the sun had risen.

"So Macbeth," a deep penetrating voice declared. "You seek me out." Macbeth spun around but saw no one nearby.

"Where are ya," Macbeth said looking nervous. "Show yuirself."

"Come now Macbeth, you didn't actually expect to see me did you? After all, you're really seeking **Nothing!" **

With that, a masked figure wearing a dark cloak and hat seemed to shimmer out of thin air. His mask seemed to smile mirthfully in the early morning light.

_**To Be Continued…**_

**Author's Notes: **Levi Coffin was a real person, often called the "President of the Underground Railroad." It is estimated that he helped between 2,000 and 3,000 slaves escape to the north. The attitude that I have written for him reflects the attitude given in the quotes that I read online and in the family history book, because you see, Levi was an ancestor of mine.

He and his wife Catherine ran the "Grand Central Station" of the Underground Railroad in Newport, Indiana (Called Fountain City nowadays) They were Quakers and believed that all humans were descendants of Adam and Eve and like so many of the deeply religious of that time; despised slavery.

Levi was even quoted as saying : "The Bible, in bidding us to feed the hungry and clothe the naked, said nothing about color, and I should try to follow out the teachings of that good book."

I merely extended this attitude towards gargoyles as well. I like the idea of gargoyles helping fight a very serious injustice, but like Greg Weisman did with MIA it is the real people, like Levi, Catherine, and Harriet Tubman who are the heroes and not fictional gargoyles. I tried to pay respects to my ancestor as best I could, but in the end I leave it up to the reader to judge as to if I succeeded.


	5. The Blood of Lilith

**Gargoyles: The New Adventures of Old Pog**

**Chapter 5: The Blood of Lilith **

_Hugo Manor, New Orleans, 1840 AD_

The sun drifted lazily across the sky, sliding down towards the western horizon in its usual arch athwart the heavens. If anyone were to enter the apparently forsaken mansion, they would find the wine cellar seemingly abandoned, the rooms desolate and uninhabited, and an unusual flight of stairs that led to a doorway on the roof.

One could walk around on the roof, and they would see eighteen ugly bat-like grotesques in various nightmarish poses circling the roof. A closer examination would reveal the statues of a hippogriff, a winged unicorn, and a heraldic stag were also atop the building.

No one would suspect that the wine rack in the cellar disguised a secret tunnel that led to a saw mill several miles north. No one would guess that the 9 former slaves that the gargoyles had rescued from the cotton plantations had already escaped with Levi Coffin and were now hiding in a wagon headed north ostensibly carrying goods to the townsfolk of Newport.

And no one would guess that when Helios completed his daily journey, that the statues atop the manor would come to life with triumphant roars.

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"The Amphora Pandora," Nought said frowning, or rather his mask frowned. Macbeth thought little of the fact that Nought's mask would reveal his expressions. When dealing with the Third Race, one needed to expect a few atypical affairs.

"So that's why you need me," Nought said thoughtfully. "Because I am the only member of the Third Race with power over demonic entities."

"Precisely," Macbeth said as he sipped his coffee. The pair had stopped at an outdoor café not far from the docks. They could see that morning's slave auctions going on from the café.

A young woman of about 19 came out and gave Macbeth and Nought their food, Macbeth sighed and looked down at the Cajun sausages and eggs; Nought smiled and dug right in.

"Oberon's Law forbids me from directly interfering in mortal affairs," Nought said casually. "You wanted to meet with me, that's why I came."

"True," Macbeth said. "But the Amphora is not a mortal object, and so using your gifts on the beings within is not interfering with mortal affairs."

Nought's mask seemed to furrow its brow. "Which demons are contained within the vase?"

"Tannin, Beelzebub, Mammon, Asmodeus, Belphegor, Amon, and Rahab," Macbeth murmured as quietly as he could.

Somehow, Nought's mask seemed to visibly pale. "Those aren't just minor little imps, those are some of the most powerful…those are seven of the nine Demon Lords. You're asking a lot Macbeth mac Findleach. I don't even know if I have the power to do this…"

"I would be in your debt," Macbeth said softly.

"Ha!" Nought crowed. "That's a laugh. You're already beholden to the Weird Sisters. I'd have no claim. Besides; aren't you trying to kill Demona? That will end your own life as well."

"I thought you might feel that way," Macbeth said. "I intend to take the Amphora from Demona, and then end our misery. I've even got a plan. But I need you, the god of the void, to dispose of the vase when I'm done."

"I see," Nought said. "So I wouldn't have to do anything, merely cast the Amphora into nothingness when you and Demona are dead."

"Indeed," Macbeth said.

"But you can't pay me," Nought said looking peeved. "Your time would be up, and what you're asking will be very taxing."

"I thought about that," Macbeth said looking the Oberati straight in the eye. "I can pay you with the time from three young gargoyles that I brought from London. They're here—so they think—to help me get the Amphora. In fact, I brought them to distract Demona—and pay you if necessary."

"You'd sell out your allies?"

"If it meant ridding the world of Demona's evil?" Macbeth said. "Yes. I'm just so tired…I want it over."

"Fascinatingly ruthless," Nought said. "We are agreed."

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As then sun sank beneath the firmament the last golden rays bathed the swamp with their rich colors. As the last glimmer of sunlight faded away, leaving only a soft glow, and a light blue sky, cracks began to appear in the statues.

They seemed small at first, but the cracks began to extend and split. They rapidly spread over the bodies of the stone gargoyles. The stone "skin" covering the eyes crumbled away first, and lights, like bright flares pierced the enveloping darkness—fifteen pairs of ruby red spheres of light, and seven pairs of white lights

The rest of the stone "skin" began to crumble away as each gargoyle greeted the dusk with tremendous roars and panther-like screeches.

"HUN-HU-ROOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAR"

"MWR-ROOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWW"

The sound shattered the darkness, and frightened away several alligators that were basking in the evening light.

The gargoyles yawned and shed the last remnants of their stone skin, stretching their arms, wings, and tails if they were blessed with the usual prehensile tail, which, oddly enough, Pog and Unette were not.

"We'll be needing to meet with Macbeth shortly," Pog said to Peryton and Unette softly, before Charlebois or any other Cajun gargoyles could come into earshot.

"Awwww," Peryton moaned. Pog and Unette both rolled their eyes. Charlebois approached them with another male gargoyle.

"Pog, Peryton, Unette," Charlebois said smiling as she approached them. "This is Marquis. He is our clan's Magus, well versed in the magical arts."

"A pleasure to meet you," Unette said smiling and curtsying.

"_Non mademoiselle, le plaisir est toute mine,_" Marquis said softly. He took Unette's talon and kissed it. Pog felt himself get hot. His eyes flickered white for a second or two, and Marquis smiled to himself. Charlebois turned and walked over to several of the younger generation whom had been vying for her attention.

He was tall, as tall as Pog, with the standard bat-like ears and nose that seemed to come along with French gargoyles. His body was covered in a very dark, and very rich red fur, almost like blood.

He had two long horns that curved upward out of his head and formed a V shape on his forehead. He had a luxurious mane of long white hair coming off of his head. His wings were the thes standard bat-like configuration that the French gargoyles typically sported. He had a long tail, with a spade tip, this seemed, almost out of place on the French gargoyles, foreign even.

"So you're the clan's magus?" Unette said. "Our clan owns a magic shop in London; I'm training myself in magic. I have a purely hypothetical question that I've wanted to run by another magic-user…Pog and Peryton are great, but they're completely useless when it comes to sorcery."

Peryton frowned at this, and Pog crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow ridge.

"_Vous pouvez me la question de quelle de n'importe de demander, mon ange_," he said smiling. "Anything that I can do to help."

"This is purely hypothetical mind you," she said shaking her head and speaking clearly. "I would never, in a million years dream of doing this."

"All right," Marquis said slowly, no longer sounding as certain as he had been a moment before.

"Suppose I was going to summon, or release—hypothetically mind you—but say I wanted to control seven high level demons," She said frowning. "What would you recommend for the task?"

"_C'est horrible. Cela est Interdit la Magie Sombre du type pire. Pourquoi feriez-vous quelque chose comme cela ?_" Marquis looked aghast.

"No, no," Unette said looking upset. "It was a hypothetical…I would NEVER do it."

Marquis continued to look upset for a few moments. Then he paused. "Dark—evil—magic such as that would require blood ritual. Not just any blood either…a blood sacrifice. An unwilling victim…and the blood from all three races; gargoyle, human, and Oberon's Children."

"And one of them has to be sacrificed?" Peryton said looking horrified. "Alive? Like, you have to kill them?"

Marquis nodded, he paused, then looked very disturbed before turning and rushing over to Charlebois. He grabbed her arm firmly and attempted to drag her back over to where the British gargoyles were talking.

Pog swallowed. "She would obviously sacrifice a human…Macbeth said she hates humanity."

"Thank God it can never happen," Unette said breathing a sigh of relief.

"Why not?" Pog asked. Marquis had finally succeeded in dragging Charlebois away from the young gargoyles and over to the Londoners.

"Well isn't it obvious?" Unette asked. "There's no where on this earth where anyone can get blood from the Third Race."

"That's not true," Charlebois said looking curiously at the heraldic gargoyles.

"What?" Pog, Peryton, and Unette said in unison…terror gripping their voices.

"There's a shop on Royal Street," Charlebois said. "The proprietor, calls himself 'Lord Raven Dracken' he claims to have acquired the blood of Lilith."

There was an ominous sort of silence that settled over the group. The silence was eventually broken by Peryton.

"This may seem a dumb question," he asked. "But, who the bloody hell is Lilith?"

"Lilith," Unette said quietly. "The stories say she was the first."

"What?"

"What do you know about the Jewish-Christian Creation story?" Unette asked frowning.

"Um…not much," Pog admitted. "None at all," Peryton interjected.

"Well," Unette said. "The basic outline is God made this perfect world, and humans screwed it up. The devil tempted man into eating from a tree that God had declared off-limits. The tree was never important…it was the disobedience."

Pog and Peryton looked at one another.

"It's actually a variation on the Amphora Pandora story," Unette said looking at them in surprise. "Zeus gave Pandora the Amphora, told her not to open it. God gave man a tree, said don't eat from it…there's a theme going on here. I don't know which happened first…or if either happened at all, though I would bet that they both did; after all: all things are true.

"In any case, every wicked thing in this world came to be from eating from that tree," Unette continued. "Death, disease, bloodshed, Lazarus, Peryton—,"

"HEY!"

Unette smiled at her own joke. "Well, anyway, that's Biblical history, you can look it up in any Bible. _Legend _says, that to save Creation from being completely destroyed by sin God took the energies left over from the act of creation, and made Lilith. The first member of the Third Race. Gargoyles being the first race, and humans being the second."

Pog and Peryton looked at one another.

"I thought legend said that Lilith was Adam's first wife," Pog said frowning.

"All things are true," Unette said. "Few things are accurate. I've heard that too. I don't think that it is accurate…you remember that monastery I told you about last night Pog? The legend that I'm quoting…it comes from another one of their books: a history of the Third Race. It seemed…I don't know…to ring truer than other tales that I've read. More like an eyewitness account than a fable."

"Okay," Pog said frowning. "Go on."

"Anyway," Unette said. "The legend says the Lilith did preserve Creation, for a while…she was granted a lot of power, but she began to be influenced by the sin-filled world. She felt that God was asking her to be subservient to the first two races."

"Was He?" Peryton asked.

"I don't know, maybe," Unette said. "It doesn't seem like His style, but maybe he would to try and keep her humble or something like that…or not, it doesn't matter. Would you two stop interrupting me?"

Pog and Peryton fell silent before Unette continued. Charlebois and Marquee listened on with interest.

"She became wicked…and I don't mean deplorable acts wicked," Unette said frowning. "I mean Sodom and Gomorrah wicked. They say that after she shifted into wickedness, she began begetting the first generation of the Third Race: Kronos, Typhon, Mab, The Frost Giants, Kampé, Apophis…nasty things like that. I mean…you've heard of Mab right? She was a Saint compared to Lilith."

"Well anyway," Unette said. "Eventually she was deposed by what we now call the Elder Forces: Some of her good children—like Ouranos, Grandmother, and Ra—who were born before she became consumed by evil, and her evil spawn—like Kronos, Mab, and Apophis—teamed up and imprisoned her deep beneath the bowels of the earth. They made Mab their Queen, and Lilith's Children, became known as the Children of Mab, or Mab's Children…even though they weren't all her literal children, like they were with Lilith."

"And this Raven," Pog asked looking at Charlebois. "He has some of her blood?"

"He claims to have found her prison," Marquis said quivering. "And drained her blood. I tested it…it is the blood of the Third Race…I don't know if it's actually Lilith's though. I wouldn't be surprised…it came from a very powerful Oberati."

"We need to go," Pog said. Charlebois and Marquis looked at each other.

"Why?"

The trio of Londoners glanced at one another nervously.

"We'll have to explain later," Pog said unfurling his wings. "Right now we're in to much of a rush to elucidate. Come mates…we've no more time left to lose."

With that, the trio of heraldic gargoyles took off, leaving a very confused Charlebois to watch them.

"_I do not trust those three,"_ Marquis said in French to Charlebois as the trio left_. "Unette asked me of a very wicked rite. A rite for the comanding of demons. I think that they plan evil.."_

_"I not concur,_" Charlebois responded. "_I think that they are a godsend. With them we can save our clan._"

"_I think that you are fooling yourself. You do not want them to be evil, because that would mean the ruin for the clan._"

Charlebois sighed. "_You may be right. I will send someone to spy on them, if you are correct, then we will do what must be done_."

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"The Blood of Lilith," the Hunter exclaimed after he'd spent several hours perusing the records and inventory of the shop. Sweet had been of no help, as it was illegal to teach a slave to read.

"Soon Demon," he murmured. "Soon the world will be rid of your filthy kind once and for all!"

_**To Be Continued…**_

**Author's Notes: :( **Please Review…I know you're reading this, I can see my story stats go up. If you like my fanfictions, you must review them or they will die…Fanfic is powered by reviews. VolpedeFuego's first review was fantastic, long and full of happy things. Long reviews are good. And if you don't like my story…tell me why so that I may improve…and if you hate my story with a passion…then don't read it, Ding-bat. But if you like it…me ego needs to be stroked. So review and I will be Happy **(:**

Much Praise to VolpedeFuego, Storyseeker, and Griff4823 who've reviewed already...keep it up, don't stop!! (See!: You stoke my ego, I stoke yours back!)


	6. Demons and the Demon

**Gargoyles: The New Adventures of Old Pog**

**Chapter 6: Demons and the Demon **

_Honey Island Swamp New Orleans, 1840 AD_

The as the sun set, Demona awakened in the Louisiana with a triumphant roar. Her eyes flashed red as stone skin scattered everywhere. She smiled as she walked to the water's edge. She plunged her talons into the murky swamp water and pulled out a Greek vase. It was black, with images of various Greek monsters such as the Chimera, Cerberus, and the Manticore painted on the side.

"Soon," Demona whispered softly. "Soon the ritual will be complete. Soon Humanity shall be purged from this earth."

"_Good,_" a raspy voice that seemed to come from the Grecian vase that Demona held. "_Good, let the hate flow through you. Let Wrath, Lust, Greed, Pride, Envy, Gluttony, and Sloth be your allies. You shall have Vengeance for the Destruction of your clan. Vengeance for your betrayal. Vengeance!"_

Demona seemed unaware of the voice speaking to her, though, she did flick her ear, as if swatting at an insect. She climbed up a nearby tree and quickly took to the sky.

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**"**You're late," Macbeth said as the London gargoyles landed in front of St. Louis Cathedral.

"We had a longer glide than we expected," Pog said. He glanced back at Peryton and Unette. The three of them had decided that they wouldn't tell Macbeth about the New Orleans clan, at least not until they were sure that they could trust him.

"We roosted on a mansion outside of the city," Pog said…it was the truth…just not the whole truth. He glanced at his companions. "We've found some information."

Macbeth frowned as they told him about Raven's shop, and the blood of Lilith.

"That store was burglarized last night," Macbeth said. "The proprietor was murdered and his products were ransacked."

Pog turned and looked at Unette in panic.

"Midnight," Unette responded quickly. "She'll have to perform the rite at midnight…and on Holy Ground, or she'll never be able to contain the demons."

"Where would she go?" Pog asked Macbeth, looking at him suspiciously.

"Holy Ground," Macbeth said. Their conversation got no further than that however; there was a panther-like shriek and Lavue dived down and snatched Unette up by the neck. She slammed her hard against the church wall. Lavue's eyes flared red.

She turned and looked at Pog. "You lied to us! Who are you really…who is this human?"

Pog stared at Lavue in shock. Unette groaned and attempted to struggle against Lavue's grip, but Unette had always had a size disadvantage. She snarled and flared her eyes red right back at Lavue. Peryton had taken a battle stance, his antlers lowered and wings flared. Macbeth had drawn a medieval broadsword from under his duster.

"Tell me," Lavue said, her eyes still glowing. "Or I'll kill her."

"We didn't lie to you about anything," Pog said holding his hands up nonthreateningly. "You and your clan never asked what we were doing here. New Orleans is awfully far away from London."

Lavue's eyes stopped glowing as she began to look surprised.

"Now please," Pog said. "Put my friend down."

Lavue looked at Unette reluctantly, and complied. Unette's eyes stopped glowing, but she curled back her upper lip, baring her fangs, and let out a low growl. Despite her physical similarities to a horse, Unette was a gargoyle through and through…she was a predator and a carnivore. Her teeth showed that.

"Why are you here?" she asked. "Marquis believes that you are here to commit an atrocity. To cast evil magic."

"Quite the opposite," Pog said, gingerly taking Unette by the shoulders and guiding her away from Lavue. Unette kept her fangs barred and her eyes flickered red for a second or two.

"We are here to stop another gargoyle from committing an atrocity," Pog said. "Her name is Demona."

"_Mon Dieu_!" Lavue gasped. "Truly? Demona?"

Pog and Peryton both reacted to this, Unette was still growling.

"You've seen her haven't you," Macbeth said frowning.

Lavue glanced at the human suspiciously, but said nothing to him.

"We encountered Demona about two months ago," Lavue said. "In St. Louis I, she was setting up for some sort of spell or ritual. She was surprised to see us, as we were surprised to her. She told us that we were the last of our kind…we believed her…until you three arrived."

"That does explain much," Pog said thinking back on it. "Why you're clan seemed so desperate for us, yet suspicious at the same time…but Demona is the one who seeks to do evil magic…not us."

Lavue pursed her lips. "You could be lying."

"So could she," Pog answered.

"Very well," Lavue said frowning. "I'll take you to St. Louis I, where she was setting up her spell…only because I do not trust either of you."

"Then let us make haste," Macbeth said. "We've not much more time."

Macbeth wrapped his arms around Peryton's neck as the stag-goyle began climbing the cathedral. Lavue followed after. Pog waited a moment before touching Unette lightly on the shoulder and looking her in the eyes.

"Are you all right?" he asked her.

She blinked, sighed and frowned. "I didn't like that…I didn't like being the damsel in distress right then. I always knew that I was smaller than other gargoyles…but I'd never felt so helpless then. I _really_ didn't like it." Her eyes glowed red again on 'really'.

"I'd always questioned whether I'd be any good in combat," she said sighing. "Now I know..."

Pog shook his head. "She took you by surprise. Don't let it eat at you."

She smiled half-heartedly at Pog; she then dug her talons into the side of the cathedral and started climbing for some altitude. Pog sighed, he kicked at the cathedral to get a foot-hold for his hoof, something that Unette and he'd had in common, it was harder for hoofed gargoyles to climb because the lack of lower talons.

The London gargoyle climbed up the side of the Cathedral and hoofed it to the sky as quickly as he was able, praying that they could stop this Demona in time.

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_11:57pm, St. Louis I, New Orleans 1840_

Demona stared at the young girl bound to the gravestone. Something was bothering her…something she just couldn't quite grasp.

"_What is it my dear?_" the vase whispered to her.

Demona walked up to the young girl, bound and gagged. She looked at Demona in horror and screamed into her gag, a muffled "MMMMMM!" sound.

"She's so young," Demona murmured. "So innocent."

"_Of course…innocence is required for the spell,_" the voice purred. "_You need the sacrifice to control the demons. Besides, she's a human…the humans destroyed your kind. Remember?"_

Demona picked up the athame, which had been prepared in Holy Water a week ago. She turned to plunge the dagger into the girl's heart, but some force stayed her hand.

"She's still so young," Demona said.

"_Why do you resist this? She is the daughter of a slave owner…she owns slaves! She is the epitome of why humanity is a scourge. What other species uses their own kind as slaves? It is abhorrent. Release the demons and they can destroy humanity…your kind need never fear man again."_

"I suppose," Demona said she looked on in confusion. This was what she wanted…the opportunity to destroy humanity was in her grasp…what was holding her back?

"_The Humans betrayed you! They destroyed the last of you! The Captain, The Hunter, Prince Canmore, Macbeth. Destroy them!"_

"Yes," Demona said almost hypnotically. "Vengeance." Her face grew fierce, almost as though she were gaining the upper hand against whatever force was holding her back.

"Yes!" she declared more firmly. "All of humanity shall pay for what they've done!" She raised the athame again, preparing to finally plunge it into the heart of her victim.

"But at what cost?" Pog demanded as he, Unette, and Lavue landed in front of Demona's makeshift altar. She had knocked down a grave marker and set it up as a table atop on of St. Louis I's many mausoleums. Demona dropped the ritual knife in shock.

The nature of the city made it impossible to bury anyone below ground; so instead, mausoleums had been built to house the dead, usually in families. The marker-stone that Demona had used had come from within on of the tombs

To jars, filled to the brim with blood lay on either side of the young victim's head, one of the jars had an eerie phosphorescent glow to it.

"Who are you?" Demona demanded, recovering her wits and retrieving her blade using her tale.

"Pog," he answered. "Of the London Clan. Good God Almighty. She can't be more than twelve!"

Pog's beak had dropped open upon seeing the young girl bound to the altar. She looked towards the new gargoyles with renewed hope in her eyes.

"At last I've found you Demon!" Gavin Canmore declared. The four gargoyles turned to see two men had joined them atop the mausoleum. One was a heavily muscled African man; the other was masked and spoke in a deep Scottish brogue.

His mask was accentuated by three red slash marks.

"The Hunter!" Demona exclaimed. Then she smiled wickedly. "I would much rather have your blood for the spell."

"The Hunter?" Pog exclaimed in shock. Every gargoyle had heard tales of the Hunter: a clan of Scotsmen whose sole purpose was the extermination of the gargoyle race. The London Clan had been mercifully spared the wrath of the Hunters, but other clans nearby had not been as lucky…the clan had heard tales of the Hunters from survivors of clan massacres…when there were survivors.

"More Demons?" He said looking at Pog, Unette, and Lavue in shock.

Pog shook his head. "You've got us wrong…we're the angels here." He turned and looked at Demona earnestly

"Why must you seek this vengeance?" Pog demanded, looking at Demona pleadingly. "Hasn't there been enough death? Can't you see that the demons are controlling you? They want to be released?"

"It is for the good of our kind," Demona declared. Her eyes flashed red. "If you will not aid me, then so be it. Cast your lot with the Hunter."

"Oh boy," Sweet said looking at the four gargoyles before him.

"You're trying to stop her?" Gavin said confused.

"If I can," Pog answered grimly.

Demona laughed, raising the knife again. "You fools cannot hope to stop me."

"Possibly not Demona," Macbeth declared. "But I can."

Demona spun around. Peryton had circled round behind Demona while Pog and the Hunter had distracted her. His eyes goggled when he saw Demona.

"Wow," he grinned. "I know she's evil and all…but she's a looker!"

"Macbeth," Demona said smiling as her "soul mate" raised a revolver at her. "I've been expecting you."

"But not these others?" Macbeth said gesturing lightly towards Lavue, Sweet, Pog, Unette, Peryton, and the Hunter.

"I knew about the clan here in New Orleans," Demona said glancing at Lavue. "The heraldic gargoyles and the Hunter took me by surprise I'll admit, but when I sensed you I prepared myself."

"It ends tonight," Macbeth said coldly. He fired.

"NO!" Pog yelped, but to his surprise, nothing happened. Or rather, something happened, just not to Demona.

A semi-transparent shield lit up around the altar and the bullet ricocheted off the barrier. A silver pentacle necklace began glowing around Demona's neck.

"A gift from the late Raven," Demona said smiling. Pog looked surprised and lunged, only to be forced back by the barrier as well.

"Now nothing will prevent be from completing the ritual!"

"If that is the case," Nought said shimmering into existence by the altar. "Then here I am."

"Did someone decide that this was some sort of twisted party?" Peryton demanded. "Because I think the guest list is just a tad too crowded."

"Oh Hell," Pog moaned, just before it broke loose.

_**To be continued…**_

Much praise to my reviewers: Howl, Griff4823, Kimberly T, VolpedeFuego, and Storyseeker. I hope that the setup here was good…because chapter 7 will leave you breathless.


	7. All for Nought

**Gargoyles: The New Adventures of Old Pog**

**Chapter 7: All for Nought **

_12:07pm, St. Louis I, New Orleans 1840_

"I am shadow and darkness," he said softly. "I am quiet and cold. I am hunger and emptiness. I am loneliness and thirst. I am vacancy and vacuum. I am nothing. I am Nought."

"That's funny," Unette said nervously. "One of Oberon's Children is called Nought."

"At your service milady," Nought said bowing; he removed his hat and folded his elegant cape across his chest as he did.

"Oh bloody hell," Unette whispered.

"I'm that too," he replied. His mask seemed to smile. He turned toward Demona, who was looking quite shocked by the arrival of the Oberati.

"First thing's first," Nought said. "The shield has got to go."

"I came prepared too," Macbeth said grinning.

Nought snapped his fingers and Demona's pentacle vanished. The dome that had appeared around her glowed and dissipated. She jerked, realizing her defense was gone; she turned to plunge the athame into the child's heart. The dagger disappeared as well.

"Mates," Pog declared. "We're gonna need to move fast."

Pog flared his wings and leapt onto the table where the girl was bound. His hooves—which were basically a solid talon—struck the gravestone and left an indentation in the marble. Two hoof prints in solid stone.

"Get the girl," Pog said, pointing at Sweet. "And get her as far away from here as possible."

Pog wasn't sure why he'd given the order to the human he'd never seen before, but he didn't question it, he simply acted. He lunged at the amphora, which had been carefully placed at the girl's head.

It took Demona a moment to realize what Pog was up to, as the hippogriff gargoyle snatched up the amphora before Demona could do anything to stop him. Unfurling his wings and gliding into the necropolis. Peryton hesitated, but then glided after him.

"Demona's mine!"

"The Demon is mine!"

Macbeth and Canmore declared in unison. Macbeth fired his revolver at Demona again as her eyes flashed red and she avoided the shots. She leapt off of the mausoleum in into the cemetery. Macbeth was on her tail in an instant. Canmore pulled out a flintlock pistol and leapt after her.

Unette turned and looked at Nought, who yawned casually. A determined look crossed the unicorn gargoyle's face and she turned and glided away from the crypt.

Sweet was unsure as to why everyone was leaving, but that didn't stop him. The slave rushed over to the young girl bound to the table.

"I wish I'd brought a knife," he murmured as he lifted her up.

"Allow me," Lavue said, and using her talons she began slicing through the ropes.

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The amphora shimmered in Pog's talons as he alighted atop another sepulcher. The London gargoyle examined his prize closely, and almost dropped it when he realized that a face had appeared on one side.

"_Well done Pog,_" the face said in a cool raspy voice. "_You succeeded at getting the Amphora of Pandora away from Demona. Now she cannot release the demons within. Clearly you are superior to Demona. You are superior to Peryton too. He's always stalking and harassing the females…you're better than him…you're better than all of them."_

Pog blinked; almost hypnotically his talon went the opening of the urn. The lid had been sealed onto the vessel with beeswax. Pog's talon started to pierce the wax, and with it came a hissing sound.

"Yes," Pog murmured. "Superior."

"_And you are superior to Unette, she's such a know-it-all. She thinks she's better than you, but you know better."_

"Pog!" Peryton exclaimed, landing next to him. "Mate, what the bloody hell are you do doing?"

"_It's Peryton,"_ the vase whispered. "_You are superior. You don't need him."_

"Pog," Peryton said with a tone of more than slight worry. "You're about to open the box. Please don't open Pandora's Box…again."

Pog shook his head rapidly, as if attempting to snap himself back to reality. Peryton's voice had brought him back to his senses, but only slightly. He glanced down at the vase.

"I think you should take this mate," Pog said handing the amphora to his stag-like rookery brother.

The moment the vase was in Peryton's talons, Peryton got a blank look on his face—as if he was listening to someone Pog couldn't hear.

"Yes," Peryton said almost dreamily. His talon casually going up to the vase's opening. "That would impress her wouldn't it? She's so beautiful."

Pog's eyes widened in panic and he snatched the urn away from his friend.

"Pery," Pog said grimly. "I think we have a problem here."

"_Pog! You're so smart, figuring out our strategy. Open the Amphora and let us out so we can show you the proper appreciation that you deserve."_

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"I've waited over 800 years for this day," Macbeth said firing another shot at Demona. "It will be worth it."

He glanced at the other man who was firing a flintlock pistol at Demona. He wore the mask of the Hunter…Macbeth wondered vaguely about that. It was a good way to instill fear in Demona though…an excellent thought that Macbeth would have to bear in mind.

"Give up Demon," Gavin crowed. "My family has hunted you for over 700 years. It ends tonight. I've been training for this my whole life…I cannae fail."

"Macbeth," Demona chucked from within one of the crypts. "And the Hunter…what fortuitous circumstances; both of my greatest enemies together in one place. Never again will either of you threaten my kind again!"

Macbeth silently gestured towards the nearest crypt; he could see Demona's eyes glowing within. He signaled the Hunter…whoever he might be…to join him in the crypt.

The two of them entered the mausoleum, seeing two caskets lying side by side, and several more stacked in slots on the wall. The two of them stepped inside, guns drawn. Macbeth looked to the right, as Gavin looked to the left. The tomb appeared empty.

Suddenly, Demona's tail stretched down and wrapped around Gavin's neck. The hunter began chocking loudly, dropping his pistol.

Macbeth heard the sound and spun around, firing and the azure snake wrapped around the Hunter's neck. The bullet hit its mark

"Rrrwwwoowr," Demona yowled in pain.

"AHHH-UGGNN," Macbeth groaned, from Demona: the literal pain in his…

Demona released the Hunter and dropped atop one of the caskets. Her face obscured by the darkness, her eyes blazed crimson and remained that way.

She glanced at her bleeding tail, then—in an almost desperate move—she pounced like a cat out the entrance to the crypt. The two men exited just in time to see her clamber up the side of another crypt and take to the sky. Both of them began firing at her. One bullet passed through her wing membrane, and Macbeth groaned again, this time from pain in his shoulder blades.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Unette had retrieved an iron bar from the front gate and had returned to the original tombstone, wielding the bar like a club. She lunged at Nought, who had sat down upon a throne made of smoke.

He dodged her easily, simply shimmering out of existence, and then reappearing again.

"Careful with that iron little girl," he said sternly. "Someone could get hurt with that thing."

With that, the entire tomb vanished, and Unette fell to the ground with an unceremonious 'thump', landing on her posterior. This did not faze her however; she was on her hooves again in a flash, and attempting to strike again at Nought, who had simply hovered to the ground when he made the crypt vanish.

He yawned again as shadows from the ground reached up and began wrapping around Unette's arms and wings like ropes. Wherever the shadows touched her, she simply disappeared.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Okay," Pog said gently taking the amphora from Peryton. Pog had raided on of the nearby tombs, and had torn bits of cloth from the caskets; this cloth was now wrapped firmly around his talons. He wasn't touching that pot with his bare talons again if he could help it.

"It seems to be working," Peryton said as the face vanished from the jar. "I'm not hearing any more voices…besides the usual I mean."

Pog rolled his eyes, but secretly he was pleased. The demons couldn't exert any more control over him or Peryton any more.

"All right mate," Pog said. "Let's go."

"Um," Peryton paused. "Pog, can we wait a moment?"

"Why?"

"Well," Peryton looked embarrassed. "The sins try to control us using the sin we're most susceptible to."

"Yeah, so?"

"Well, my sin is lust."

"What does that have to do with…uh never mind."

Pog looked uncomfortable and turned away from his friend. "I think that was more than I ever wanted to know." He confided to the vase. He swore he heard laughing from within the urn.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Okay," Peryton said as they glided back towards the mausoleum that they had first encountered Demona.

"We've got the amphora, now what?"

"I'm not sure," Pog admitted.

"Pog! Pery!" Unette's voice cried out. "Look out!"

The two gargoyles didn't have any more of a warning than that, as shadowy ropes or chains lunged at them from the ground.

The cords wrapped around Pog's talons and legs and began dragging them down to the earth. To his horror he saw that where the "chains" wrapped around him, that part of his body simply vanished. With his talons gone, the vase plummeted to the earth.

"No," he whispered as the cloth gloves he'd fashioned drifted down as well.

Nought shimmered into appearance and caught the vase with no effort.

"_NOOOO!!_" the voices hissed, and everyone who'd ever touched the amphora heard it.

The Oberati yawned again and examined the vase closely.

"Hmmm," he said almost curiously. "One is missing. Oh well."

He held up his cloak with his left arm and tossed the vase into the void beyond. Nought's mask smiled as he closed the cloak.

Peryton alighted on the ground next to Unette, who was mostly gone; she was only a floating head, the iron bar lay where her feet should have been. Peryton approached her with horror, and to his own horror, the shadows began wrapping around his limbs.

"What's going on here?" Pog demanded.

"What's going on is that Macbeth betrayed us," Unette snarled, her eyes flashed red. The shadow wrapped around her horn and it disappeared. "He used us to pay for Nought's services."

"Meaning what?" Pog inquired forcefully.

"Nought is the only Oberon's Child with power over demons," Unette said patiently. "That's because Christians believe that the true Hell, is the absence of God. And Nought's domain is absence, nonbeing, nothingness."

"Right you are," Nought said smiling. "I am the god of Nothing. So I can cast the demons into Hell, the only place where their God, is not to be."

The fey approached the three gargoyles. "But it's not easy. Such a casting is actually an intrusion on a domain that is not mine. Death, and what lies beyond is not mine to command, Hell is only mine by technicality. So it's draining, intruding on the domain of Anubis and Dis."

"So he buys time," Unette said bitterly. "Literally. He buys the time of mortal beings here on earth, they cease to be for an allotted amount of time, and he recharges."

It was then that the shadows completely enveloped Unette, and she ceased to exist.

"Bingo," Nought said, filling in for her. "And I just cast six demons into the void. I need time badly, and Macbeth sold me yours. 100 years each. You'll exist again in the year 1940."

"NO!" Pog declared. His eyes flared white and he struggled against the antimatter. "That's not fair. We didn't sell you our time."

"Whoever said life was fair," Nought frowned. "You pledged your services to Macbeth, thus he was responsible for your fates, so he could sell your time. Oberon's Law is not broken, only bent."

"Still that don't seem right,"

Pog, Peryton, and Nought turned to see Jacob Sweet, and the Cajun gargoyle Lavue standing a few feet away. A look of horror on Lavue's face, Sweet still held the little girl whom Demona had meant as sacrifice.

"It just don't seem right," Sweet said again.

"Right and wrong have nothing to do with it," Nought said wearily. "Now unless you want to take their places…"

"Can we do that?" Lavue demanded.

Nought looked surprised. "Yes," he replied. "Easily. I only need 300 years of time, it doesn't matter from whom."

"Then I take their place," Lavue declared.

"Wait," Sweet said turning to the gargoyle. "Are you sure about this?"

She nodded solemnly.

"NO!!" Pog yelped. "Lavue you can't d…" Pog found himself cut off as his beak vanished.

"It's my decision," Lavue said shaking her head. "You three are important to my clan…you can save us."

"It costs three hundred years," Nought said. "You shall exist again in the year 2140."

With that the shadows vanished from around Pog and Peryton, and with a swooping movement, enveloped Lavue without even a second to prepare. She was gone in an instant.

Pog and Peryton looked down at their own talons, unsure if the price was worth it.

Nought snapped his fingers, and Unette shimmered back into existence. She groaned.

"Is it 1940 yet?" she asked, looking at Pog and Peryton as they caught her and slung her arms around their necks supporting her.

The three gargoyles turned to face Nought, but the Oberati had disappeared, an ability that came easily to the god of nothing.

"The Demon got away," Canmore said raising his flintlock. The trio of gargoyles turned to see the Hunter was raising his gun at them. "But I can still nail some demons tonight."

"No you can't," Sweet said stepping between the gun and the gargoyles. "These guys have been through enough tonight."

Gavin pulled back the pistol and starred at the slave in shock.

"I may be a simple slave," Sweet continued. "But I know right and wrong. They weren't your enemies tonight, so leave em' be."

"Aye laddie," Macbeth said approaching them from the other side. "There's been enough of that."

The Hunter holstered his gun and frowned at the gargoyles. "You get a reprieve for tonight only. But come sunrise I'm hunting you down and I'm wiping you out!"

The Hunter turned and disappeared into the night. Pog turned towards where Macbeth had been standing—eyes blazing—but the immortal Scotsman had disappeared as well.

"Where is Lavue?" Marquis glided down and landed. The trio looked at one another guiltily.

Thunder clapped as Marquis's eyes glowed. "Where is she? I sent her after you three. What happened to her?"

"I knew that you three were no good for the clan! I sent her after you because I didn't trust you."

Marquis snarled, the lightning was now rapidly flashing in the background, framing the New Orleans Clan sorcerer. The rain began to pour down in one continuous downpour.

"Where did this storm come from?" Unette asked, still dazed.

"Marquis, wait," Pog said. "Let me explain."

"Mark my words, London gargoyles," Marquis snarled, each time his eyes flared white, lightning struck somewhere behind him. "You will suffer for what you did to her today. I will make sure you suffer…you and your clan."

Lightning flashed once more and Marquis was gone.

The three gargoyles and one former slave looked at each other, far too exhausted and emotionally drained to dwell on Marquis' words.

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_Two Nights later, New Orleans Docks_

Five cloaked figured stood before the boat the _Freedom_ shortly after sundown, they spoke in low hushed voices so that no one could overhear. No one else was about, as the rain had not let up since the London trio had met Marquis in the graveyard.

"I can't thank you enough Levi," Pog said. "Without you, I don't know how we would have gotten home."

"Think nothing of it my friend," he said waving his obvious generosity off. That was the Quaker way.

"Is there any word of Marquis?" Unette asked Charlebois, who shook her head.

"_Non_," she responded. "No one has seen talon nor wing of him since your encounter with him in the graveyard. I fear that you have not seen the last of him though."

The London gargoyles had returned to Hugo manor and told Charlebois everything that had occurred that night. They felt they owed her an explanation. Macbeth had disappeared; Pog hoped for good, he never wanted to see him again.

"How's Jacob?" Peryton asked shuffling. The subject of Marquis made Peryton uncomfortable.

Levi smiled. "Very happy to be reunited with his brother," he said. "They're talking about heading west, maybe settling some land out on the frontier."

"What about you?" Unette asked. "You and your clan are in mortal peril now that the Hunter knows that there is a clan in New Orleans."

"We'll be all right," Charlebois said smiling. "We'll head north with the next batch of runaways, those who aren't going with you that is."

Four of the New Orleans females had decided to return with Pog, Peryton, and Unette to London. As Angelique had put it: "I am very interested in your clan where there are many available males."

It was her first full sentence in English.

"Be careful," Pog said He embraced leader of the New Orleans clan, and she in turn embraced Peryton and Unette.

"You too,"

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_87 days...er…uh…nights later_

"Oh London!" Peryton exclaimed. "I never thought to see her again!"

"Pery," Pog said as the ship pulled into dock. "Why don't you take our new clan mates to _Knight's Spur_? Introduce them to Fyn, and the 'available males' Unette and I want to stop by the shop."

Peryton nodded. "Okay ladies, follow me."

All seven gargoyles climbed the rigging and glided into the city, Pog and Unette peeling off and heading to Soho as Peryton and the New Orleans gargoyles headed towards _Knight's Spur._

It didn't take Pog and Unette very long to come into sight of _Into the Mystic_.

"Home sweet home," Pog said. As the two of them approached the shop, the balcony doors opened and a female gargoyle stepped out. She was yellow with brown spots, cloven hoofed like Unette, and sporting two nubby little horns at the end of her horse-like head.

"Cam!" Pog called out recognizing his rookery sister. She blinked and looked surprised.

"Pog, Unette," she said smiling. She waved and stepped back, making room for the two of them as they landed.

"What are you doing here?" Pog asked.

"I work here now," Cam said shaking her head and smiling. "You lot were gone so long…we didn't know what happened to you. Fyn assigned me and Bel to the shop."

Pog furrowed his brow. "Yes, well, this Macbeth chap dragged us across the pond to New Orleans. We just got back, tonight. Peryton's headed to _Knight's Spur _with a bit of a surprise for Fyn."

"You just got back?" Cam asked looking worried. "You came straight here?"

"Yes," Pog said confused by her tone.

"Then you haven't heard," Cam said. "Lazarus is very ill, he has been for a few weeks now…they don't think he's going to last much longer."

_**To Be Continued…**_

**Author's Notes:** Thus concludes the first arc of the New Adventures of Old Pog. Chapter eight will be up sometime next week at the latest, and will send Pog and crew off on a bran new adventure that I guarantee will be even more exciting than this one. I hope everyone has enjoyed the journey so far.

The character of Cam is not mine to take credit for, (and you'll get to know her better in chapter eight) I saw her whilst browsing Deviant art and coming across her in Howl of Memories artworks. Cam climbed into my head and started interacting with my characters…I couldn't stop her. So I asked Howl for permission, and here she is.

Much kudos to Storyseeker and Howl. They were the only ones who reviewed chapter six. What's up with that? You guys need to review me. Don't stop!


	8. Modern Menace

**Gargoyles: The New Adventures of Old Pog**

**Chapter 8: Modern Menace **

_9:57PM, London, Present Day_

"Do ye think that the Pendragon is right?" Hudson asked.

Old Pog shrugged and sighed. "I'm not sure…there's really no way to be sure unless we can examine the bodies ourselves."

"Aye," Hudson agreed as the pair of elder gargoyles banked left with the wind current. "And I dinnae think that the humans will take too kindly to that."

Old Pog chuckled. "No, they prolly won't at that."

The two aged gargoyles landed nimbly atop the Houses of Parliament and looked out at the Thames. Big Ben began chiming the hour nearby.

"I remember when that tower was new," Pog said glancing at the clock tower.

"Aye," Hudson commented glancing at the clock, reminiscing himself. The elderly gargoyles remained introspective for several minutes…each dwelling on their own experiences with clock towers.

"So," Old Pog said breaking the silence. "You've never faced vampires before?"

"Aye," Hudson said, breaking out of his own nostalgia. "Never faced such terrors in Manhattan, an' the beasties ne'er came near Castle Wyvern."

"You're lucky," Old Pog said shuddering. "They're the foulest beings on the planet."

"I've ne'er seen them," Hudson said frowning. "But I've heard tales…in my youth, a gargoyle from the Scone Clan came to Wyvern Hill…said there was a nest of the beasties not far from his home…all the warriors went out that night to destroy them. I was but a hatchling then, but the warriors who returned didn't like to speak of what they found there."

"I'm not surprised," Old Pog said.

"Shall we then?" Hudson asked, uncloaking his wings.

"Just a moment more, Hudson," Old Pog said leaning on his staff. "I'm not as young as I once was."

Hudson smiled. "Aye, I know the feeling."

Just then the radio clicked, and Lexington's voice came over the line.

"_Lexington and Amp reporting in from Westminster Abbey, all quiet here."_

"Amp? Who's Amp?" Old Pog asked looking at Hudson in confusion.

"He means the lad Staghart," Hudson said. "It's what the lad asked us to call him when we met."

Old Pog rolled his eyes. "Hatchlings."

"Aye," Hudson answered pressing the talk button on the radio. "Hudson and Pog checking in from…where are we now?"

"Palace of Westminster," Old Pog supplied.

"Palace O' Westminster, all is well here, too."

"_King Arthur and Griff,_" Sir Griff's voice chimed in a second later. "_Reporting from the shop, all's quiet in Soho."_

Old Pog couldn't help but smile, losing Griff, one of his own rookery children, had been one of the more difficult endeavors of his life, so when he'd returned, 66 years later, only Leo and Una had been more excited than Pog.

"_Cleo and Coco,"_ Coco's voice articulated a moment after that. "_Tower Bridge, it looks like there's noth…what's that? What-ho! I think we may have something here."_

Old Pog perked up. "Tell her not to go in alone."

"Pog says wait for some backup," Hudson said over the radio.

"_Please,_" Coco responded. "_I'm not a hatchling anymore. I think Cleo and I can handle ourselves._"

"Constance, no!" Old Pog exclaimed. "You don't know what you're dealing with!"

"_We're going in,_" was Coco's only response.

Pog looked at Hudson in panic. "We're closest, goddamn it. We'll have to move quickly."

"She's an able warrior," Hudson said, trying to reassure Old Pog. Nevertheless he unfurled his own wings and stepped onto the parapet, preparing to take flight. "Ye should have seen her take on those metal contraptions of Xanatos."

"That may be," Old Pog said as the duo of older gargoyles took wing. "But she's never faced anything like these fiends."

"I pray," he murmured, mostly to himself, "That I haven't sent them to their deaths…"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_11:17PM, 1841, Into the Mystic, Soho, London_

Pog blinked, "Lazarus is ill?"

Cam nodded gently. "I was just about to go see him. You two want to come?"

Pog's beak had gone dry, he simply nodded. Lazarus was a clan institution; he'd lived far longer than any other gargoyle in the clan ever had… The idea of him _not_ being around was absurd.

Slowly Pog and Unette unfurled their wings in silence and took to the air, following Cam's lead. The glide to _Knight's Spur_ was between 15 minutes and half an hour depending on the night. Pog was grateful that tonight was a good night. They made it to _Knight's Spur_ in record time; just under 11 minutes.

The London Clan's ancestral home was fully stocked, and capable of serving the 171 gargoyles who now called it home.

The clan had a rather large dining hall, to accommodate the gargoyles at dinner. As well as a Library that rivaled any other library in the country. Though the estate had burned down in the great fire of 1666, the clan had managed to rescue all of their old writings and books.

The wine cellar doubled as the clan rookery, though; there were no eggs down there at this time. The clan leader and second-in-command were the only gargoyles whom enjoyed private quarters. The rest of the clan didn't mind though; as such things were unnecessary due to the gargoyle lifestyle. What few possessions a gargoyle owned, he or she usually kept on their person.

Pog could see several hatchlings from the 1818 rookery playing tag in the nearby forest. A stag drank from the creek as the gargoyles passed overhead. The forest was fully stocked with game, and there were coops behind the estate where several clan members raised quail, chickens, and other small birds. The clan was very self-sufficient.

_Knights Spur_ was built any other mansion, but was also equipped with access to the main house from doors on the roof. Pog, Cam, and Unette landed swiftly next to one of these rooftop doorways.

Pog nearly plowed over Bhors, his boar-like rookery brother on his way in.

"Welcome back," Bhors muttered sarcastically under his breath.

The doors led to a wraparound balcony that overlooked the foyer. This atrium was lined with the clan's ancient treasures that were too valuable to keep at _Into the Mystic_: suits of armor dating as far back as the seventh century, paintings, antique books to fragile for the library and such.

The trio quickly walked down on of the marble staircases, all three of them were hoofed, so their hooves made clinking sounds on the stone steps as they descended.

_Knight's Spur _had four main floors, and the clan's infirmary was on the second floor (from the top, which was how the gargoyles measured it, humans would say that it was the third floor) Pog led the way, and soon he his sisters arrived at the infirmary. Lear, the London Clan's elderly (though not nearly as old as Lazarus) unicorn-like healer stepped out of the infirmary.

"Ah, Pog, Unette," Lear said adjusting his glasses. "I'd heard that you were back, Lazarus has been asking for you. And Pog, Fyn wishes to speak with you when you're done."

Pog swallowed. He slowly stepped into sanatorium, Cam and Unette on his tail. Lazarus lay on a bed in the center of the room, the other beds were unoccupied. Two female gargoyles from two generations ahead of Pog's acted as nurses, watching Lazarus carefully. At this point though, all they could do was make him comfortable. He was, after all, 342 years old.

He looked it too; at the shop Lazarus carried himself with quiet dignity and grace…and he was in excellent shape. He seemed like a much younger gargoyle then, perhaps 150, or 200. Now his griffin-like face wore hard the ravages of time.

Eyes that had seen Shakespeare's London; witnessed the last bout of the Bubonic Plague and the Great Fire of 1666. Lazarus was not just a clan treasure…he was a historical treasure of Great Britain.

Pog noted that Peryton was already in the room, kneeling by Lazarus's side. Though the clan joked about how crotchety and cantankerous the old shopkeep was, everyone loved him.

"_Pog my boy_," he croaked, seeing the hippogriff-gargoyle enter. His voice was raspy and strained, like he could barely control his breathing. Pog noticed that his wings—which he had always kept under his cloak at the shop—no longer even looked like wings. They looked like thick, feathery tentacles covered in blistering sores…sores that even stone sleep would not cure…cancer. Lazarus had wing cancer.

It was a manifestation of the disease not found in humans…even in gargoyles it was quite rare, but stone sleep would not cure cancer, of any variety.

"_I'm so glad that you're still alive,_" he whispered hoarsely, he paused and coughed. "_I hadn't expected…cough…cough…I hadn't expected you to be gone so long. I thought that Macbeth had…cough…cough…had killed you. I thought…cough…cough…cough…I thought that _I _had killed you."_

With that he fell into a terrible coughing fit.

"It's all right," Pog said kneeling down and clasping Lazarus's talon. "We're all fine…he just dragged us across the pond that's all."

"_Pog!_" he rasped. "_Pog, can you forgive me?_"

Pog glanced at his rookery siblings, uncertain what Lazarus meant. _Forgive him for what? _He mouthed at Peryton. Peryton shrugged, shaking his head. Pog turned and looked Lazarus in the eye.

"Of course I forgive you," he whispered.

"_Then I am done,_" he smiled. "_Cast me to the winds, Forcene I am homecoming._"

With that, the eldest gargoyle of the London Clan breathed his last.

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_10:22PM, London, Present Day_

"There they are!" Old Pog said pointing down at Coco, the boar-like female, and Cleo, a leonine female with golden fur and long honey-colored hair. She dressed in black, which complimented her golden fur. Cleo was hot tempered and sarcastic…a product of her generation.

Pog and Hudson saw instantly that the girls were surrounded. Six vampires, looking much like pale humans with warped demonic faces circled them.

Pog raised his staff and dove down, slamming one of the Nosferatu from behind with his hooves. The creature was knocked to the ground. Pog didn't waste a breath he drove the end of his staff into the vampire's heart.

The Lamia shuddered for a moment, then its flesh evaporated into dust, leaving only a skeleton behind. The other vampires hissed and turned towards the new arrivals.

Two of the attempted to surround Old Pog, but he was extremely cautious, not letting either of them out of his eye line.

"Come on then lads," Old Pog declared as the vampires herded him towards the edge of the bridge. "We're none of us getting any younger."

Pog smiled slyly, and pointed his staff at one of the vampires approaching him.

"Look behind you mate," he said.

"Yeah right," the vampire responded. "Like I'm gonna fall for that old—"

The vampire said nothing more as his head had unfortunately been separated from his shoulders so quickly that it took several seconds before the flesh on the animated corpse could dissolve into dust.

The other vampire jerked in surprise as he turned and looked at Hudson, who was brandishing his long curved blade. The Scottish gargoyle grinned at the vampire.

"Tempered Viking steel," he crowed. "Never leave home without it."

"Now I know you've been watching too much telly, mate," Old Pog quipped back at the duo lunged at the last vampire. He shuddered violently, and his flesh dissolved away leaving behind his charred skeleton. Pog and Hudson blinked.

Coco laughed. Pog and Hudson turned to look at the boar-like female. She was still in a throwing pose. She had tossed the stake that all of the gargoyles had been issued when King Arthur had first become aware of the vampire problem.

"Nice shot, Coco," Cleo said grinning. She smiled and gave Coco a high five.

Pog reached down and pulled the stake from the skeleton and tossed it back to Coco.

"Impressive, Constance," Pog said. "But do try to hold on to your stake, we really can't afford to take any chances."

"You can say that again," a voice called out.

Pog blanched, looking around and suddenly noticing that the four gargoyles had been surrounded. A tall skinhead vampire with tattoos all over his left arm approached the gargoyles, as at least three dozen more surrounded them.

"I've been told that there's nothing like drinking gargoyle blood," the skinhead said grinning maniacally. His eyes glittered red. "And I am such a discerning connoisseur."

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_6:17PM, 1844, Into the Mystic, Soho, London_

The sun slowly drifted beneath the western horizon. Atop the _Into the Mystic_ shop in Soho, five statues gazed down at the street below; a hippogriff, a Peryton, a unicorn, a camelopard, and a Pegasus.

A large number of flies buzzed around the heraldic statues, five or six coming to rest on Pog. As the twilight neared and gargoyles began to awaken, cracks appearing in the stone forms, and a moment later:

"ROOOOAAAARRRRR!!"

"Oy," Pog exclaimed shooing the flies away from his face. "Ugh! Bloody Hell, there've been so many flies about this summer."

"Could be worse mate," Bel said winking. "Could be horseflies."

"Then they'd be going after you," Pog quipped back.

"Oh," Bel said clutching his heart. "Low blow!"

Bel, or Bellerophon as he was really named, looked very much like a male Unette, though he lacked any horn. He had a short mane of blue-colored hair and solid hooves like Pog, as opposed to Cam and Unette's cloven hooves.

"Yes well," Unette said shrilling as she swatted several flies away, looking horrified at the insects. "All joking aside, can't we go inside now?!"

The other four gargoyles laughed as they headed inside. Peryton, Unette, and Bell headed downstairs, as Pog and Cam sat down at the desk in the study.

"All right Pog," Cam said smiling. "You've been doing fairly well thus far, with simple spells like sleep, lighting, and tracking, so tonight were going to start with something a bit more complicated…"

Pog smiled as he opened the _grimoire_ that had been set out the night before. He had really grown to enjoy his magic lesions with Cam. She was much more "down to earth" than Unette was, and unlike Unette, Cam wasn't afraid to get her talons dirty.

Pog couldn't help but notice that she was _such_ a lovely shade of yellow, and her spots complimented her fur. She had a long leonine tail, like Peryton or Fyn. Yes, all in all Cam was a very lovely gargoyle…

"Pog are you listening?" She chirped loudly and sounding very annoyed. This snapped Pog out of his funk almost immediately.

"Of course I am," Pog said indignantly.

Cam crossed her arms and looked at him inquisitively. "Then what did I say?"

"Um…," Pog stuttered, not realizing that she would call his bluff. "You said…focus?"

"Actually," She said sighing. "I said that there's a rhinoceros in the water closet. I was testing to see you were listening."

Pog bowed his head sheepishly. "Er…uh…oops."

"Honestly, Pog," Cam said sighing and shaking her head. "If you fancy me, then you should just ask me to the solstice dance or something similar. Not stare at me hopelessly."

Pog's beak dropped open. The Solstice Dance was the social event of the year in the London Clan…on December 22nd, the longest night of the year, and thus the night a gargoyle remained flesh the longest, the London Clan would throw a party that rivaled Queen Victoria's parties.

"That was a hint," Cam said.

"I…um…,"

"Good God you are hopeless aren't you," Cam said sighing. She got up and grabbed her cloak for work in the shop from off the coat rack, preparing to head down into the shop.

"Wait!" Pog said getting up. "Cam, would you like to go the Solstice Dance with me?"

"I'd love to Pog," she said sighing and shaking her head. "Really was that so hard?"

Pog swallowed…it had been just as hard as he'd imagined, if not worse.

"Pog," Cam said tossing him his own cloak. "A word of advice: females prefer confident males, not shy ones. I'm not dropping hints next time."

"Right," Pog said throwing the cloak on. "Confidence. Right."

The two gargoyles headed down into the main area of the shop. A single human customer was perusing a series of books on Items of Enchantment.

The human glanced up and frowned at the new gargoyles entering the room.

"All right," he said. "The Stag and the Unicorn I get, and you're a griffin right?"

"Hippogriff," Pog corrected softly.

"But what the bloody hell are you supposed to be?" he demanded pointing at Cam.

Her eyes flashed scarlet for a second. The man gasped as she stepped towards him.

"I'm a Camelopard you ignorant…" Cam was interrupted by a loud thump on the roof. The human looked terrified, by the sound, and by the look on Cam's face. The door upstairs creaked, and there was the sound of large, heavy footfalls.

The human bolted, taking to the door and running like the hounds of Hades were after him.

"There goes another customer," Peryton quipped dryly. The thumping continued.

"Sounds like Abernathy is here," Bell said frowning. "I wonder what it is that he could want."

Abernathy was the clan historian, and the only other gargoyle besides Pog, Cam, Unette, Bel, Fyn, and Peryton to frequent the shop. Abernathy was a very large gargoyle, nine and a half feet tall and with a wingspan twice the size of any other member of the clan to compensate for his height and weight.

He had a leonine like face a golden fur all over his body, except on his feathered wings, which had purple plumage.

The large lion-like gargoyle lumbered down the stairs as Unette gently walked over to the shop door, and flipped the CLOSED sign around.

"Ladies and gents," he said gruffly, nodding toward Unette; acknowledging that she'd closed the store.

"I have found something incredible in the clan records," he said smiling.

"What?" Cam asked curiously.

"The location of a certain item," Abernathy said. "An item that could be incredibly useful and valuable, not just to the clan…but to gargoyle kind as a whole…Pog, Unette, Peryton, Cam, pack your bags. We're going to Venice."

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_10:29PM, London, Present Day_

"This is not good is it?" Cleo said looking around at the vampires as they surrounded the quartet of gargoyles.

"You can say that again," Pog murmured.

"This is not good."

_**To Be Continued…**_


	9. Blood & Stone

**Gargoyles: The New Adventures of Old Pog**

**Chapter 9: Blood & Stone**

_8:30PM, Knight's Spur, London, 1841_

"He has forgotten more than most of us will ever remember," Fyn said. "Lived three lifetimes and learned more in those years than most gargoyles will even dream of knowing."

The whole clan, including the four new members, had gathered atop _Knight's Spur_ to witness the final farewell of Lazarus. The final send-off of any gargoyle: The Wind Ceremony.

An urn, containing Lazarus's ashes (his cremation had started the previous night and lasted throughout the day) rested upon a small table atop the building.

"He was an institution, and a historical treasure," Fyn concluded. "He will be missed."

There was a pause. This was the portion of the ceremony where anyone who desired—friend or enemy—could say a few words about the deceased. An enemy was allowed to say anything he wanted, without repercussion, and a friend could as well.

Lazarus had few of either, most of his rookery kin having died two centuries earlier. It was then that the cantankerous old griffin had retired to the shop, seldom seen again by the rest of the clan.

No one spoke—not even Unette, who had promised that she would have some final—unpleasant—words to say at the ceremony. Apparently she'd had second thoughts.

"Oh come on," Peryton said, rolling his eyes. "He was a cantankerous old git and we all know it."

Fyn nodded—everyone had the right to say what they will about the deceased at the Wind Ceremony—good or bad. Angelique giggled, and some of the older clan members looked at Peryton disapprovingly—while secretly hiding smiles of agreement.

"But he was _our_ cantankerous old git," Peryton said. "He will be sorely missed."

There was a brief moment of silence before Fyn stepped forward and opened up the urn. Fyn turned and opened his wings, in order to better gauge from which direction the wind was blowing, determining that the wind was blowing west, he began pouring Lazarus's ashes into the wind.

"Ashes to ashes, or Dust to dust," Fyn said as he poured. "All is one with the wind."

The rest of the clan unfurled their wings and took flight, 171 gargoyles all in the air at once, as Lazarus's ashes mingled among them and became truly a part of the clan.

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_10:30PM, London, Present Day_

"No way that we can take them all," Coco said, suddenly looking nervous. The four gargoyles had pressed their backs against one another, Hudson's sword and Pog's staff battle ready.

There were at least 15 vampires encircling the gargoyles.

"I've faced worse," Pog sighed. "But that was a long time ago."

"I get the one that looks like a pig," an Asian vampire girl standing next to the skinhead said. She couldn't have been more than 16 when she was turned.

"PIG!!" Coco snarled, her eyes blazing red. "You little b--"

"That's right, angered blood tastes the best." The vampire interrupted as she stepped towards them.

"Fear's not so bad either," Skinhead said. "It's just such a pity that we spent all this time hunting for gargoyles and we get these two old prunes. Do they even have any blood left?"

"Hunting gargoyles?" Pog asked suddenly. Despite the obvious danger that they were in, this statement disturbed him. There should have been no evidence of gargoyles in London, period.

Only Leo, Una, Staghart, Constance, and Griff made regular forays into the city. The rest of the clan tended to remain at _Knight's Spur_. Cleo had joined them for this hunt, as she'd been eager to slay vampires.

"And how would ye even know that there are gargoyles in this city?" Hudson demanded, articulating Pog's thoughts out loud.

"That's for me to know," Skinhead responded. "And you to not find out."

The vampires stepped ever closer, and Pog closed his eyes, preparing himself to cast a shield spell—and hoping he had the strength to extend it over the four of them.

He didn't have to find out, the Asian vampire hissed and lunged towards Constance, but before she took two steps, a blast of electricity fired from the air like a bolt of lightning and struck her from behind. She gasped and clutched her chest, falling to he ground as though she was having a seizure or a heart attack.

Then she caught on fire, burning from the inside out.

"What?" Skinhead exclaimed. There was another burst of electricity, from above, but from another direction that struck down another vampire.

"Griff," Constance grinned. She snarled and lunged at a nearby vampire, taking the offensive.

A moment later a green griffin-like gargoyle dressed in leather landed next to Pog and Hudson. Hudson's eyes lit up as he took to took to the offensive much as Coco had.

"What-ho, I thought you could use a bit of help," Griff said grinning and brandishing the Lightning Gun that he'd appropriated from Macbeth.

"Excellent timing lad," Pog said.

"Well," Griff said, firing the gun at another vampire. "I left the shop at around the same time Constance reported from Tower Bridge."

"Nice shot," Pog commented as Griff's blast bore a hole straight through the chest of one of the vampires.

"I keep saying that we should get Macbeth to issue these to the whole clan," Griff replied.

"I don't need your gadget," Pog said raising his staff and pointing it at the Skinhead vampire. "And I certainly don't need Macbeth."

"_"Fulmenos venite!"_ Pog declared in a loud clear voice. He felt energy leave him as a bold of lighting shot out and struck Skinhead. The vampire looked at Pog in shock, and then fell to the ground clutching his chest.

Griff looked at Pog with a mix of amazement and admiration.

"That's how we do it Old School," Pog said smiling.

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_9:14PM, 1844, Venice, __the __Kingdom of Lombardy-Venetia_

Five gargoyles glided silently through the night above the canals. The four adolescent gargoyles followed Abernathy's lead. The leonine gargoyle seemed to know where he was going, and Pog, Unette, Cam, and Peryton had no idea so they stuck close to him and close together.

Abernathy turned gained some altitude and landed atop a building in a remote part of the city. Unette landed next to him, Pog, Peryton, and Cam alighting a few feet away.

"Oh Pog," Cam said in a hushed tone, looking out over the city. "Isn't this city absolutely gorgeous? It's amazing…I've never seen anything like it. A city built on top of water…it's…incredible!"

Pog smiled and took Cam's talon in his own as they stared out at the canals of Venice. Neither of the gargoyles noticed Unette's eyes flicker red for a moment, though Peryton did. He said nothing but made a mental note.

"Venice was once home to two clans of gargoyles," Abernathy said looking out over the canals. He gestured to Unette, who rifled through a satchel that had been slung over her shoulder. A moment later she handed Abernathy a scroll.

"The first clan," he continued. "Was a clan of heraldic gargoyles, much like us. In fact, the heraldic lion is still the symbol of the city."

He chuckled, mostly to himself as the young gargoyles listened intently.

"These heraldic gargoyles protected the city herself," Abernathy continued. "The local church believed that they were angels in mortal forms."

Pog waved away a pair of flies that were attempting to land on his wings.

"The second clan was a bit more mysterious," Abernathy said. "They lived in the canals themselves, and their protectorate was a series of treasures that they horded in various lairs down there."

"Wait," Peryton interrupted. "They lived _in_ the canals?"

Abernathy nodded. "They were an aquatic clan. The rarest gargoyle clan type. I have never seen the likes of an aquatic gargoyle in my lifetime, nor has any living member of the clan. Lazarus, however, said that he once met an aquatic gargoyle in the days of his youth."

The four young gargoyles exchanged a glance.

"It is believed that mermaids, kelpies, selkies, sirens, and other such myths are based on sightings of aquatic gargoyles."

"Christopher Columbus once claimed to have seen a mermaid," Unette said ominously. "And he saw her at _night_. When passing through the Sargasso sea."

"One of these days," Pog said. "I'm going to have to read that bloody book on gargoyle ethnicity."

Unette smiled. "If I have my way, the book will be taught to all the hatchlings. If they meet a foreign gargoyle they'll be able to say things like 'you look like German stock to me' or 'so you must be from Spain' or 'Hello, I'm from London, and I can see you're from Scotland'."

Pog rolled his eyes. "And how often is something like that going to happen Unette? The only other clan of gargoyles that we've met is the New Orleans clan…and we're not even sure if they're still alive."

Unette pouted but knew that Pog spoke the truth. Shortly after Angelique and her rookery sisters arrived at _Knight's Spur_. Bhors and few other males snuck aboard some ships bound for the States. Their intent: to woo the New Orleans females for "the good of the gargoyle species". They found Hugo Manor abandoned, and found neither shard, nor talon mark to indicate what had happened to the New Orleans clan.

Dejected, Bhors and his brothers had snuck aboard another ship with cotton bound for England. Fyn had quite thoroughly chewed them out for their actions, but the whole clan was now worried about their New Orleans kin.

Abernathy cleared his throat. Pog and Unette turned towards the older gargoyle, who had his arms crossed and was looking at them in annoyance. Clearly Abernathy was not finished telling his story.

"Anyway," he said rather gruffly. "The two clans lived peacefully within the city. Most humans weren't even aware of the Canal Clan, and those that were associated them with the Heraldic Clan, and the clans were pretty close. There was definite interbreeding between them. The peace didn't last though."

"It seldom does," Cam said grimly.

"The Bubonic Plague struck the city in the 1300s," Abernathy said. "And the humans wanted a scapegoat. It didn't help matters one bit that a Hunter arrived around that time and threw suspicion onto the gargoyles."

"I think I can see where this goes," Pog said wincing. It was, unfortunately, a fairly common tale—especially when the Hunter was involved.

Abernathy nodded solemnly. "By the end of the fourteenth century the total of both clans numbered something like fifteen or sixteen. They left Venice and headed north, following rumors and whispers. Eventually they wound up in England and joined our clan. When they joined us, they numbered about five or six; and none of them were aquatic gargoyles, they had all died along the way."

"So what's this Star of Arabia thing got to do with them?" Peryton asked curiously.

"The Star of Arabia," Cam said smiling and letting go of Pog's talon. "Legend says that the Star is the tear of an angel. Well, some legends anyway. Others say that it's part of a ring that turns people invisible."

She uncloaked her wings and placed her right hoof on the ledge, as though she were about to take off. She looked down at the nearest canal.

"The tear was given to the legendary king Prester John by St. Thomas," Cam said. "The Star has always fascinated me; I've read every legend about it. The Star was said to grant to any member of the three races a gift that the other two had that they did not."

"What does that mean?" Pog asked cocking an eyebrow ridge.

"I don't know," Cam admitted. "But I'd love the opportunity to find out."

"That's not all the Star is said to do," Abernathy said. "Supposedly if a member of each race is touching the star, then they may make one irreversible wish…which will be granted."

Cam nodded. "That's what happened to Prester John. His kingdom was under siege from Mongols, and the gargoyle clan that defended his city was all but defeated. They thought that they were hopeless, but a member of Prester John's household revealed himself to be a Djinn—one of the tribes of Oberon's Children—and John, the leader of John's gargoyle clan and the Djinn all touched the Star and wished for the kingdom to be safe. And the whole city simply vanished."

"Everyone?" Peryton asked.

"Yes everyone," Unette said huffily. Pog and Peryton looked at her strangely. She'd been acting very out of the ordinary lately.

"Yes," Cam said more calmly than Unette. "Everyone; man, beast, gargoyle, and even the buildings. Everything but the Star itself and a lone gargoyle warrior who wasn't within the city walls at the time. That gargoyle wrote down the story, which is how we know it. The Mongols left, too spooked by the disappearance of the city to speak of it again. Men have been looking for Prester John's kingdom ever since."

"The Star changed hands several times over the next two centuries," Abernathy said. "Eventually it found its way into the hands of the Canal Clan here in Venice."

He held up the scroll that Unette had handed him earlier. "At least, that's what it says here. Since we already know that the Canal Clan horded treasures and such it's not much of a stretch to think that The Star might be here. Just think what a boon to our clan that the Star of Arabia might be. If not for its historical value, then certainly for its 'legendary properties'."

"So where exactly is the Star?" Pog asked frowning.

"Ah," Abernathy retorted. "Therein lies the rub. I don't know exactly. The Canal clan kept their treasures in several different locations."

He turned towards Unette, who had already pulled out several pieces of parchment and handed them out to the young gargoyles.

"We'll have to split up if we wish to make good time." Abernathy said handing one of the parchment scrolls to Pog, then Cam, and then Peryton.

"Search each of these locations," Abernathy said. "We'll meet at San Giorgio Maggiore just before dawn."

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_10:41PM, London, Present Day_

"Talk," Old Pog said, placing the butt of his staff on the vampire's chest. "Or Constance here will remove your other arm."

The little blond vampire attempted to squirm away; he kept glancing at the gargoyles in terror. Pog's hoof and Coco's talon, however, kept the vampire from getting too far. The two London gargoyles loomed over the tiny lamia.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the creature chirped.

Coco's eyes flashed red for a moment, and then she ripped the vampire's right arm off. The arm shuddered in her talon, and the flesh dissolved away into dust. She shrugged and tossed the bones over the side of the bridge.

"Bloody hell," Cleo muttered under her breath. "I'd have talked by now."

"I'm telling you I don't know anything," the vampire squirmed. "They made me tonight, for the purposes of ambushing you gargoyles…I've never seen the nest."

"Fine," Pog said sighing. "Hudson?"

"My pleasure," Hudson said stepping forward with his sword.

"Oh wait," the vampire said suddenly. "You mean that nest. It's in Soho…Charing Cross Road. It's in one of the old time book shops."

Griff frowned. "That's right near the shop."

"And I doubt that it is a coincidence," Pog said. "Hudson go ahead."

"Wait! Wait!!" the vampire squirmed. "I told you what you wanted to know."

"So?" Pog asked.

"So, the point is I told you so you wouldn't bloody slay me."

"When did we make that arrangement?" Pog said. Coco and Cleo exchanged a glance. Hudson deftly cleaved the vampire's head from its shoulders.

A mere second later Staghart and Lexington landed nimbly on the bridge.

"What did we miss?" Lexington asked

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_10:15PM, 1844, Venice, __the __Kingdom of Lombardy-Venetia_

Pog veered to the right as he headed down another canal lane. This city, Venice, fascinated him. It was a marvel really. An entire city literally built on top of water. He found himself very distracted by everything he saw.

Every gondola, every palace, every bridge was amazing to look at. Pog's thoughts were interrupted by the shrieking sound of a woman screaming. Pog's eyes glowed bright white as his protective instinct flared up.

He turned a corner and landed on bridge that led to a narrow alley way. Narrow though it was, there was still enough room for three humans to stand side by side in the alley. (Or in Pog's case, to uncloak his wings)

"I don't think the lady wishes to spend any more time with you gents," Pog said. The three men turned around. Their eyes glittering like rubies, their fangs glistening in the moonlight.

Blood dripped from their mouths as the turned towards Pog. The hippogriff-gargoyle could see that he was already too late to save the young lady he had heard scream. She lay on the ground, blood trickling from her shoulders.

"You're not humans are you?" Pog asked frowning and stepping back.

"Neither are you," one of the Vampires said in an American accent. "But I bet your blood tastes just as good as one."

The three vampires jumped on Pog, and the gargoyle was surprised by their prodigious strength. These were definitely not human.

He let out a sharp snarl and attempted to knock the vampires off using his wings. He slammed his back against a nearby wall trying to crush a vampire that had somehow made its way back there. The vampire didn't even notice.

Suddenly one of them got a hold of Pog's neck with its fangs…Pog could feel himself getting weaker, as blood began to drain from his body…he could feel the life leave him.

"Oh bugger…" he murmured as he slipped into unconsciousness.

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_10:49PM, London, Present Day_

"Your majesty," Griff said over the radio. "They blighters are in your neck of the woods…they're very close to the shop…and…"

Griff bit his lower beak and looked at Pog nervously. "And Old Pog doesn't think its coincidence."

"_I'm afraid that I agree with him,_" Arthur responded. "_I'll take Leo and survey the area…but I pray to God that you are wrong._"

"That makes two of us," Pog said, he turned to Constance, who had been filling Lexington and Staghart in on what had happened on the bridge moments before.

"Come on mates," Pog said turning to Hudson. "King Arthur's going to need us very soon I shouldn't wonder…let's not leave him wanting."

_**To Be Continued…**_


	10. Blood from Stone

**Gargoyles: The New Adventures of Old Pog**

**Chapter 10: Blood from Stone**

_11:48PM, Knight's Spur, London, 1841_

Pog gently rapped on the door to Fyn's study. There was a soft pause, followed by, "Come in."

Pog opened the door and nervously stepped into Fyn's study. He glanced around. There was a fire blazing in the hearth and Fyn could see a number of odd objects of significance to the clan lying about the study.

Keythong, the second in command and Fyn's mate, was in the study as well, talking to Fyn. She, like Fyn, was a heraldic griffin, though, slightly unusual in that she had a sharp pointed horn jutting out from the center of her forehead. She had white fur and feathers, and nimble cloven hooves.

Fyn and Keythong's rookery generation was 1778, the generation before Pog's. Though Keythong was more griffin-like than unicorn-like, Pog wondered on occasion if Keythong was Unette's biological sister.

She smiled warmly and invited Pog to sit down. Pog wondered vaguely if this is what human schoolboys felt like when they'd been called into the headmaster's office. He'd seen Fyn on more than one occasion naturally, but Fyn had never requested his presence before. Pog had never been in the clan-leader's study before in his life. He felt certain that he was in trouble.

Fyn took a deep breath before speaking, as if to clear his head.

"Well done, Pog," Fyn said. "Peryton told me of your actions in New Orleans. How you led the charge against Demona…how you met up with a sister clan of gargoyles…how you faced down the Hunter. That, I think, is the most impressive of all. I can count on one talon the number of gargoyles who've seen the Hunter and lived to tell the tale."

He stood up, cloaking his wings and pacing back and forth behind his desk, which faced a large glass window. Pog could see many of the 1818 rookery gliding back and forth outside, playing a game of aerial tag. Pog remembered the nights when his rookery siblings played tag in the forest around _Knight's Spur_.

"These events have prompted two decisions on my part," Fyn said. "The first is to allow the 1798 rookery generation all three of their heats. This should better amalgamate and spread the new blood that the four New Orleans females bring to the clan."

Pog gasped. The last time that the clan had allowed a generation all three of the breeding heats was in 1587. The clutch that followed spawned Lazarus's generation.

"My second," Fyn continued. "And perhaps more important decision is to appoint a new second-in-command."

Pog frowned. "But…Keythong is your Second."

"Keythong is also of my generation," Fyn retorted. "She serves as Second out of necessity. I'm seeking a replacement. I have chosen you."

"Me?" Pog yipped incredulously. "You cannot be serious. I'm no leader."

"Perhaps not yet," Keythong said softly. "But you have the makings of one. With some training."

Fyn slid back down into his seat behind the desk.

Fyn nodded in agreement. "Peryton told me in great detail your exploits in New Orleans. He and Unette looked to you for leadership. But my opinion is not important, Pog. Yours is. Are you willing to take up the post?"

"Uh…yeah…sure," Pog said.

"Do make this decision lightly, dear," Keythong said, her soft voice soothing him. "It's a big responsibility."

"And you wouldn't become second right away anyway," Fyn said. "You'd take up the position in about five years or so. Gives you time to prepare. In addition the clan leader is supposed to be versed in magic. I know that you've never taken much interest in the subject, but it would be a requirement."

Pog swallowed, but said nothing.

"Cam or Unette could teach you," Fyn said. "Unette is well versed in magical theory isn't she?" Fyn looked at Keythong for confirmation, which she gave. "And Cam is a practicing magus right?"

"Has been since she was sixteen," Pog said. Cam had taken apprenticeship under Eber, one of the clan's more powerful mages at a very young age.

"Either of them would make a fine tutor," Fyn said. "Give it a few nights. Then return to me with your answer."

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_11:00PM, London, Present Day_

"Are you sure this is a good idea your majesty?" Leo asked as the pair of them looked down from the roof of Foyles bookstore, one of the more famous bookstores in London. "I mean, shouldn't we wait for Griff and the others?"

"Yes," Arthur said grimly. "But the only thing more wicked than committing an evil act, is standing idly by while evil thrives. I swear by the blade of Excalibur that I will not allow another human to fall victim to these vermin. Not if I can help it."

Leo shuffled uncomfortably at Arthur's words about standing idle in the face of evil. He gingerly reached up and touched the streak of grey in his mane, then glanced down at the street below.

"We're still not even sure which shop the beasts have nested in," Leo said non-commenting.

"True," Arthur said. "But this shop provides a vantage point from which we can see the most of the street. If they pass here, we shall see them."

"And then what?"

"We pray that Sir Griff and the others arrive before we must face the curs ourselves."

"Lovely."

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_10:17PM, 1844, Venice, the Kingdom of Lombardy-Venetia_

Pog could feel his strength waning. Darkness was overcoming him. Strangely it didn't hurt. There was a sharp pain in his shoulder, where the vampire was latched on to him, but nothing more.

Still, Pog could feel himself shutting down…dying. He moaned quietly, and then mustering all the strength he had in his body, he called out.

"HELP!"

He didn't really expect an answer to his pathetic cry, but still he made it.

"Oh the strength!" vampire attached to his shoulder said, moaning in ecstasy. "The raw power... I've never drained such a creature before in my life."

"And you never will again." A sharp clear female voice rang out. It was spoken, not yelled, so clear and concise that it was heard perfectly. There was the sound of a pistol firing.

The tremendous sound of the shot firing brought Pog out of his stupor…or at least closer to consciousness than he had been before. He struggled, and the vampire on his back was shuddering, as if having a seizure.

Pog mustered enough strength to flip the vampire off of his back. The creature had a red bullet hole imbedded in its forehead. The seizures suddenly stopped and the creature's flesh dissipated into dust.

The other two vampires, which had not yet begun to feed on Pog released him and looked at one another in panic.

A second shot rang out and the vampire on Pog's left shuddered and fell to the ground twitching violently. His flesh dissolved to dust a moment later. The third vampire looked panicked. Uncertain where the shots had come from he turned and darted towards the bridge that led into the alleyway to escape. He made it as far as the bridge when the third shot rang out.

He shuddered for a second, his flesh disintegrated, and the skeletal remains fell forward and landed in the canal with a splash.

Pog blinked hazily. He was vaguely aware that a lot of blood was pumping from his wound. A young girl leapt from the nearby rooftop. She somersaulted through the air and landed nimbly on the bridge. She flipped off the bridge and landed in front of it.

Pog could not see her very well as she wore a wide brimmed hat which covered her eyes. That and Pog was on the verge of being cataleptic. She couldn't have been more than 17 years old though.

She wore a long leather duster, which concealed the rest of her clothes, but Pog felt sure that she was wearing boots.

He let out a guttural inhuman noise. The girl tilted her hat back and Pog could see startling green eyes. She was shocked by him.

"What are you?" she asked.

Pog attempted to speak, but found the words lacking; he made a sort of guzzling sound instead.

She reached underneath her duster and pulled out a crossbow. She pointed it at Pog and fired. A net came shooting towards the gargoyle…and that was the last thing Pog remembered.

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_11:08PM, London, Present Day_

"What is it?" Leo asked. Arthur turned and looked at the leonine gargoyle grimly. "Not good news I'm afraid, four vampires. They're dragging that maid into that shop there: Brahm's."

"That's ironic for vampires, eh your majesty?" Leo jibed.

"How so?" Arthur said looking at him in confusion.

"Right," Leo said uncomfortably. "Forgot who I was talking to."

"Come," Arthur said climbing up onto the ledge. "The time is upon us."

"Are you sure?" Leo said looking alarmed. "Shouldn't we wait? Griff and the others will be here in ten minutes tops."

"I'm afraid that young lady does not have that long, Leo," Arthur said looking at the gargoyle.

"Yeah all right," Leo conceded sighing. He picked Arthur up and quickly glided down to the street…which was deserted and eerily still. Arthur drew Excalibur, which pulsed in the moonlight, and Leo followed a few feet behind.

"We're rescuing damsels in distress now," Leo murmured so Arthur could not hear. "Bloody damsels in distress. When Griff brought home King-Sodding-Arthur and said he was a knight now…I didn't expect to be living up to the bloody stereotype."

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_4:44AM, 1844, Venice, the Kingdom of Lombardy-Venetia_

"Well that was a tremendous waste of time," Peryton said loudly to himself. "I got myself sodding wet in the canal, to find a bloody secret treasure chamber. An empty treasure chamber!"

What was worse, he was completely soaked. Not for the first time did he find himself envious of Bhors' leathery wings. A gargoyle with leathery wings usually finds himself capable of gliding quite easily when wet.

A gargoyle with feathered wings gets weighed down by wet feathers. Wet feathers…and wet fur as well…was much more difficult to glide with. Still, Peryton was managing to remain airborne, though it was a low glide over the canals. Water was also harder to glide over due to a lack of thermals and other air cushions.

Not that thermals were common this late at night…the best thermals for gliding occurred over cobblestone roads and gravel quarries shortly after dusk.

Peryton caught sight of a gargoyle landing atop a building nearby, he smiled to himself. If one of his clan mates was taking a breather atop a nearby building, then he might as well join him. He was exhausted after all, and struggling to stay aloft.

He banked left and glided in for a landing atop the building. "Pog? Cam? Abernathy?"

The gargoyle stepped out of the shadows. It was clearly not any of his rookery siblings.

"Marquis!" Peryton yelped in shock.

"You!"

Despite himself, Peryton paused.

"You don't remember my name do you?" Peryton asked.

The Cajun sorcerer's eyes flashed. "I don't need to remember your name…all I need to know is that your clan is responsible for the loss of the gargoyle I love. I intend to ensure that you suffer for it."

He quickly drew a dagger from a small sheath on his belt. The cool metal blade began glowing a soft blue when Marquis held it.

"Fuego," he said.

A sphere of fire appeared a few feet to the left of Marquis, hovering in mid air. The bat-like gargoyle smiled wickedly. He pointed directly at Peryton. The fireball began to move.

"Oh bugger,"

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_11:08PM, London, Present Day_

"I smell a trap, your majesty," Leo said frowning. King Arthur nodded solemnly. "I fear you are right Leo, but we have no choice."

"I knew you were going to say that," the leonine gargoyle responded dryly.

His eyes lit up, and he gingerly stepped into the pitch black store. A moment later, only Leo's glowing eyes were visible.

Arthur stepped into the bookshop a moment later. Excalibur's blade began to glow a soft blue, slowly lighting the path. Leo slowed down and waited for Arthur to catch up to him.

"I don't like this," Leo said. Arthur nodded, knowing that Leo's gargoyle eyes would definitely see him in this light.

"It's so dark in here," Leo murmured in a voice so soft only Arthur could hear. "How can they bloody see?" Leo was—of course—a gargoyle, and so had night vision superior to any human, but no creature can see in absolute darkness.

"Vampires do not see as we do," Arthur commented. "Merlin once told me that see heat and cold, not light and darkness."

"Like a snake or a mosquito," Leo replied. That made sense.

"In addition," Arthur continued. "They can send out sounds so loud that man and gargoyle cannot here them. The sounds echo back to them, and they can mentally paint a picture based on the sounds."

"Like a bat," Leo said. Arthur nodded again.

"What a fascinating sword," a woman's voice called out to them. "Tell me, is that thing battery operated?"

"Oh bloody hell," Leo said.

"It's about to be," the voice said. Then it giggled. "Don't you worry about that gargoyle, it's about to be."

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_5:17AM, 1844, Venice, the Kingdom of Lombardy-Venetia_

"What do you suppose it is?" the girl asked. "It looks like a hippogriff. There are no such things as hippogriffs…are there?"

"No, not to my knowledge," a strong, elderly voice replied. "Hippogriffs are purely mythical creatures."

Pog lay sprawled out on the bed before them, they had bandaged his wounds and now gauze covered the spots where the vampires had bit him. The gauze was on his neck and shoulders, and around his left arm.

He had lost a lot of blood, and Natalie had thought that it was a miracle that the creature had survived.

"We should kill it," Natalie said frowning. "I sense evil."

"I sense it too," the man replied. "But it is merely in him, not a part of him. Until we know what it is that we are dealing with, he gets to live."

Pog groaned, his eyes flickering and he wakened, extremely light-headed. He slid sideways and tumbled out of the bed, onto the ground. He reached up with one talon, and placed it on the bed post, struggling to get himself onto his feet.

"Where am I?" he moaned. He blinked at the two humans before him. "Who are you?" Then Pog glanced at the large window overlooking the canals…it was brightly lit with the light-blue pre-dawn glow.

"Uh-oh," he said. "What time is—," Pog was cut off by the rising of the sun. The sound of grinding gravel accompanied his transformation, and a stone statue was now leaning on the bedpost, not a living flesh gargoyle.

"What the—," Natalie whispered.

"My God," the man replied. "He turned to stone! Do you have any idea what this means? He's a gargoyle! My God! A gargoyle. I thought that they were extinct!"

With this the man broke down crying, as tears streamed down his face Natalie came over and placed her hand on the man's back.

"You don't know what this means to me," he said. "I cannot believe that I didn't recognize him for what he is…a gargoyle…a real live gargoyle. There must be a clan!"

He turned and stood up, walking over to the desk and began rifling through various papers within the desk.

"Abelard, what's so special about this monster?" Natalie asked confused.

"It's not a monster my dear," Abelard replied. "It's a gargoyle. It had life breathed into it's nostrils by God himself, just as man was. It is said that the gargoyle was carved from stone in the image of the Angels, as man was made from clay in the image of God. The gargoyle is equal to us in Creation. Not beneath us like the beasts, or above us like the Angels."

Natalie turned and looked at Pog's stone form in amazement. "And you thought that they were extinct?"

"Hunted to death by man," Abelard said grimly, he placed his spectacles—the item he had been searching for—on his nose. He turned and began examining the gargoyle very closely. "Man, whose sinful nature prevented him from accepting any creature who would be called 'equal' to himself,"

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_11:11PM, London, Present Day_

"Leo and King Arthur are gone," Griff said frowning as the six gargoyles landed atop Foyles. "And I can't seem to reach them on the wireless."

"Do you think that they're all right?" Lexington asked. The little web-winged gargoyle looked around cautiously. Lex and Staghart were the only gargoyles who hadn't faced vampires thus far, and Lexington was a tad jumpy.

"You don't think the vamps got them do you?" Staghart asked.

"More likely than not," Griff said, looking over the edge of the building. "Arthur saw the vampires dragging some poor soul into the nest. Naturally he went in to stop them, and Leo tagged along. It's what I'd do."

"Aye," Pog said stepping up to the ledge alongside Griff. "I would tend to agree."

He bit his lower beak, clearly thinking and making a decision.

"Constance, Staghart, Lexington, Cleonine," Pog said turning and looking at the gargoyles. "You lot head back to _Knight's Spur_. Rally us some backup. We will definitely need it. Lexington, your robot friends should be especially helpful in this situation."

Lexington nodded determinedly.

"I'm perfectly capable of taking on the bloody vamps with you," Coco protested.

"Yes you are," Pog said firmly. "But this is not about that, we need all the help we can get. If the four of you rally as many gargoyles as you can and get them back here...we'll stand a far better chance. As for Griff, Hudson and myself, our best plan of attack lies in subtlety, not strength."

"All right," Coco said reluctantly. She turned, unfurling her wings and taking off towards the estate. Lexington, Staghart, and Cleo followed suit.

"There's one flaw in your plan, old chap," Griff pointed out once Coco was out of earshot. "We don't know which shop they're in."

"Yes," Pog said slowly. "That is true."

The old gargoyle did not say anything more; he simply opened his wings and glided down to the street. Griff and Hudson looked at one another in confusion.

"What's wrong with him?" Griff wondered out loud.

"Old wounds," Hudson replied. "Sometimes they bleed as bright as new ones…and not all wounds are the kind ye can see."

Hudson uncloaked his wings and glided down next to Pog. Griff joined them a moment later. The three gargoyles walked down the silent, still street.

"The street is so quiet," Griff commented.

"Aye, Preternaturally so," Hudson said.

"That is because the shopkeeps and people know that something is wrong," Pog said. "They know that something unholy has taken up residence here."

Pog stopped in front of the _Brahm's_ bookstore.

"They're in here," Pog said.

"How do ye know?" Hudson asked.

"Because this is the center of the darkened street," Pog said. "The aura of evil seems strongest here, and because there are bloodstains on the doorframe."

Hudson and Griff's eyes widened in shock as they observed the imperceptible speckles of blood—perhaps three, maybe four drops—on the doorframe by the handle.

"Hudson," Pog said placing his hand on the Scottish gargoyle's shoulder. "I'm afraid that you are about to find out why your clan's elders never spoke of what they found within the vampire's nest. Are you sure you are ready for it?"

Hudson looked grim but nodded.

Pog held up his staff. "_Luminos,_" he declared. The staff's curly head began glowing like a light-bulb, though rather softly for human eyes…it was more than enough for three gargoyles to perceive with.

"Better than a torch," Griff commented. Pog opened the shop door, and the three gargoyles plunged into the darkness.

_**To Be Continued…**_


	11. Orion the Hunter

**Gargoyles: The New Adventures of Old Pog**

**Chapter 11: Orion the Hunter**

_12:57PM__, 1844, Venice, the Kingdom of Lombardy-Venetia_

Natalie looked at Pog's stone form closely in the mid-day light. She was amazed by the fact that even his clothes had turned to stone. Yet somehow, the bandages around his left talon, neck and shoulder had not changed. She wondered if he had consciously instructed them not to change, or it was random chance.

These gargoyles fascinated her. She had spent seven years of her life fighting every sort of evil imaginable; to find a mythic creature that was inherently good…it was refreshing.

Plus, he was sort of handsome…in a strange way. Noble and fierce looking…the hippogriff-like gargoyle was something out of a fairy tale. He even looked like a guardian.

The door creaked open and Nat turned to see Abelard returning with their lunch. In fact, it looked as though he'd brought a whole goose in the market place.

"For our friend," Abelard said. "When he awakens tonight. He'll need to regain his strength."

"So," Natalie asked. "Is he really asleep? I mean…he can't see or hear anything we do?"

"Yes," Abelard answered. "In fact, from what I understand…he even dreams. I looked around rooftops for possible members of his clan…a futile effort. There were too many of the damn statues to distinguish a real gargoyle from a statue. Probably why a clan here would have survived so long."

"I wonder what a gargoyle dreams about?" Natalie said wistfully.

_Pog swirled about in a shadowy dark room. He seemed surrounded by a black viscous material. The scent of garbage perforated his nostrils, and there were a large number of flies, gnats, mosquitoes, and other pestilent insects buzzing around._

_Pog frowned and stepped up to the black goo. He wrinkled his face and tentatively touched it with his talon. The black goo attempted to wrap around his talon. He jerked back before it could succeed._

"_**Hello, Pog**__," a silky smooth voice called out to him. It was clear, and yet seemed oily at the same time. Pog was fairly certain that the black goop was talking to him. The voice seemed to come from the glutinous substance. _

"_Who are you?" Pog asked the goo…at least he hoped that he was asking the goo…something didn't quite seem right. The black goo began shifting in front of his eyes, melting and oozing. The black liquid suddenly assumed a solid shape, a very familiar shape._

_Pog gasped and stepped back. The ooze now looked like a pitch black version of him…though with glowing red eyes. The Pog replica smiled at him_

"_**My pleasure Pog,**__" the Ooze-Pog said. "__**You don't know how long I've wanted to talk to you. But I've never had the opportunity till now. My but those vampires did a nasty number on you didn't they?"**_

"_Vampires?" Pog wondered out loud. He wasn't sure what those creatures were when they had assaulted him, but vampires definitely made the most sense. Pog then furrowed his brow once again. "You still haven't told me who you are."_

"_**I haven't,**__" the Ooze-Pog said. "__**Well how rude of me. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Ba'al Zebub. Lord of the Flies, and Prince of the Lower Court."**_

"_Ba'al…Zebub," Pog whispered to himself. "Ba'al_ _Zebub…Beelzebub?"_

_The creature winced. "__**I hate that name. It's so typical of humans to butcher the Enochian language. There was a time when I was worshipped. I was the god Hadad! Commander of 66 legions of Hell."**_

"_What do you want with me?" Pog asked, terrified. He looked around the enveloping darkness of the expanse. Pog was unsure where he was, the only thing he could see clearly was Beelzebub in his "Pog-like" form._

"_**Please, Pog, my host,**__" he said soothingly. "__**Call me Ba'al.**__"_

"_Host?" Pog whispered._

"_**Yes of course**__," Ba'al said. "__**You who released me from that prison; the box of Pandora. My fellow angels remain trapped…lost in the void of Hell. It may take them several millennia to return to earth. Damn that Nought. Still, there's nothing that can be done about that. How may I serve you?"**_

"_Serve me," Pog whispered again. "Why would you want to serve me? You're a demon. You're THE demon of gluttony."_

"_**Pog**__," Ba'al said, twisting his beak into a shape that looked something like sadness. Though, the black form, and the red eyes ruined the image. "__**We 'demons' as you call us, were once Angels. Just because we had a little disagreement with the Tyrant, doesn't mean that we've lost our angelic nature…we're meant to be servants. Messengers."**_

"_So... " Pog frowned…rather disturbed by what he was hearing. "Why has it taken three years for you to appear to me?"_

_Ba'al Zebub looked annoyed. "__**Gargoyles are strong willed and fierce. I was merely a passenger, until enough of your life force was drained so that I might make contact with you.**__"_

"_And my worst sin is Pride," Pog murmured. "Not gluttony, which is the easiest for you to manipulate."_

"_**I am insulted…**__" Ba'al started to say._

"_How do I get rid of you?" Pog demanded suddenly. "If you're so eager to serve me, tell me how I banish you."_

"_**You don't,**__" the Pog clone said grinning. His body began melting back into viscous goo, the black substance began to wrap around Pog. Pog jerked back but found it climbing up his legs and tail, completely enveloping him. The demon felt oily and warm to the touch. "__**We are a part of you…now and forever. We will make you strong…we will grant you longevity. Like your mentor, Lazarus…did you know that he used magic to slow his death? After all, have you ever heard of a 300 year old gargoyle before? With me you can live twice that long. Anything you desire will…be…yours"**_

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_5:14AM, 1844, Venice, the Kingdom of Lombardy-Venetia_

Peryton attempted to dodge the fireball as it hurled towards him. He banked to the right to avoid the flame, but his wings betrayed him and the flames struck his left wing.

"AAAAAHHHH!" the cervine gargoyle screamed in pain and tumbled towards a rooftop. He plummeted onto the roof of a building and began rolling over and over—putting out the flame.

"Did you think that I'd forgotten what your clan did?" Marquis said landing. His dagger continued to glow blue.

Marquis' eyes glowed—not the usual white—but pure green. He pointed down at the canal. A rock levitated out of the water, up next to Marquis' head, and flung itself at Pery. The rock hit him directly above the eyes, right on his forehead.

He groaned and tumbled backwards. "Marquis listen to me, it wasn't us, it was Nought."

"Do you think me a fool?" Marquis demanded. "Nought sent the Amphora Pandora to Hell. Hell is a difficult realm for any to break into without dying…even an Oberati. He needed some poor unsuspecting soul in his own personal void to recharge his powers. To drain them of life! You tricked Lavue into that void!"

"We didn't trick her," Peryton said. "She volunteered! You have no idea how that haunted us…how it haunts us still."

"LIAR!" Marquis snarled. The glowing blade began to intensify, and thunder cracked in the distance. A Mediterranean storm was moving in. "You're lying now, just as you did then!"

He pursed his lips. "_Fuego!_" Another fireball materialized beside his head.

"I know why you've come to Venice," Marquis said, stepping towards Peryton and looming over him. "You seek the Star of Arabia and the powers it will grant you. I have come for the Star as well. I will not allow it to fall into the wrong hands…you most certainly qualify."

Peryton did not look Marquis in the eye; instead, he glanced at the eastern horizon. His salvation had arrived in the form of the rising sun.

"Dawn is upon us," He said. Marquis head snapped around in surprise. "No, I haven't had time to prep…"

There was the unpleasant grinding gravel sound that always accompanied stone sleep, and then both gargoyles were frozen in the moment. The dagger that Marquis held had turned to stone along side him. The fireball hovered for a moment and then sizzled away, no longer capable of sustaining itself with no fuel.

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_5:16AM, 1844, Venice, the Kingdom of Lombardy-Venetia_

"Pog's not back yet?" Cam asked landing on the rooftop alongside Unette and Abernathy. The leonine gargoyle frowned. "And Peryton is not back either."

"I thought Pog would be meeting with you before you returned," Unette said, sounding slightly bitter.

"We were supposed to," Cam replied, pretending she didn't hear Unette's tone. "We were to meet in St. Mark's square…I had hoped he'd merely forgotten and went ahead here."

She frowned, her worried look becoming worse by the second.

"Did either of you find the Star?" Abernathy asked. The two females shook their heads.

"And with dawn fast approaching," Abernathy said. "I cannot fathom…something is very wrong."

"With the whole city," Cam replied. "I can feel it, a dread evil. Like an infestation that everyone knows about but no one will speak of."

"I don't feel anything," Unette said.

"No offense Unette," Cam said. "But you're not a practicing sorcerer. I am. I sense something."

"I fear Cam is right," Abernathy said taking up a position on a precipice. Unette and Cam followed his lead.

"The streets were eerily quiet," he continued. "Especially for a city that's supposed to have an active night-life. As though they were afraid to be out of doors."

"Something is deathly wrong," Cam said. "And whatever it is…it's got Pog and Peryton."

The three gargoyles hardened to stone.

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_12:32PM, Knight's Spur, London, 1841_

"Fyn?" Pog asked cautiously as he entered the clan's study for the second time in one week. He blinked in surprise. The griffin-like gargoyle had his head buried in his talons…he looked as though he had been crying. Keythong stood behind him, her talons gently massaging his shoulders.

Fyn looked up in surprise. "Oh, Pog. I hadn't expected to see you tonight."

"Are you all right?" Pog asked looking at Fyn in concern. The older gargoyle smiled and nodded wearily.

"Lazarus was the first Wind Ceremony that I've ever had to perform," Fyn said. "It's more taxing than I expected. That, and we're having some budgeting issues with the shop that I have to deal with…this is a stressful job Pog."

Pog nodded back, Fyn had only been the clan leader for less than a year. He was still new to most of the tasks that were required. It hadn't even occurred to Pog that this was Fyn's first Wind Ceremony.

"I wanted to tell you tonight," Pog said softly. "That I am willing to accept the responsibilities of Second in Command."

Fyn smiled, "I didn't scare you off?"

Pog shook his head. "I've already spoken to Cam; she's willing to tutor me in sorcery. She actually leapt at the chance."

"Of course she did," Keythong said winking.

"All right, Pog," Fyn said sighing. "Since you've chosen to become my second then there's something that I need to tell you. Close the door."

Pog looked surprised but did as he was asked, closing the door, Keythong walked over to the door and locked it with her key.

"What I'm about to tell you cannot leave this room," Fyn said. "We're strapped for cash in a very serious way; there is a very real possibility that we will lose both _Into the Mystic,_ and _Knight's Spur_."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_6:57PM, 1844, Venice, the Kingdom of Lombardy-Venetia_

"This should be very impressive," Abelard said smiling. Natalie and Abelard stood in front of Pog's stone form as the last rays of daylight faded from outside. "What I've read says that a gargoyle awakening from stone sleep is far more interesting than one entering it."

Cracks began appearing along the statue; quickly spreading across the whole sculpture.

"He's going to fall apart," Natalie whispered.

"No he's not," Abelard replied. "Just watch."

"HUH-ROAAAAAAAR!" Pog roared as he escaped from stone sleep, his eyes glowing white. He then gasped for air and steadied himself on the bed. He'd awoken from a very troubling day-mare.

"W-what?" he said, suddenly feeling very light headed. He stumbled forward. "Where am I?"

"Here," Abelard said handing Pog a long oaken staff with a small knot in the top. The knot looked almost like a curl, as though the staff curled up upon itself.

"You lost a lot of blood last night," Abelard said. "Your stone sleep replenished some of it, but it may be a few nights before you are feeling 100 percent again."

"This is a sorcerer's staff," Pog commenting, noting the magical energy that easily pulsed through the staff.

"Very perceptive," Abelard said. "You must be a practicing Spellcaster, or you would not have noticed. That staff is one of my prized possessions. It is said to have been one of Prospero's staffs."

"Who are you?" Pog said looking at the two humans. They appeared to be at opposite ends of the spectrum, the girl, just 16 or 17, the old man, perhaps in his 60s.

"My name is Abelard Van Helsing," He said. "And this is Natalie Orion."

Pog blinked. "Pog, of the London Clan."

"London clan?" Abelard said looking surprised. "You're not from Venice?"

"Our clan has Venetian blood," Pog said. "But no."

"You're awfully forthcoming about your home," Natalie said. "How do you know we don't mean you ill will?"

"Because," Pog said. "If you did, you could just as easily have smashed me while I slept. Plus you rescued me from those creatures in that alley."

"Fair enough," Natalie said. "Those creatures were vampires. Inhuman and unholy. Not unholy the way that a horse is not holy. Unholy in the way that demons are unholy."

Pog shifted uncomfortably.

"They murdered my family," She said bitterly. "I've been hunting them ever since. Killing them wherever I find their filthy kind."

"I've raise Natalie as my own since she was 10," Abelard said. "Educating her in all manors of fighting and controlling the supernatural. Gargoyles have never come up because wickedness is not a common trait in your kind. Usually you protect with honor and nobility, even when others persecute you."

"In Bagdad I got this," Natalie said smiling and pulling out her revolver…it looked like a Colt, though Pog knew very little about guns.

"I encountered a necromancer who had imprisoned a Jinni and was using her for evil," Natalie said. "I rescued her and in exchange she granted me three wishes. This gun can kill any supernatural being, regardless of its normal killing requirements."

That made sense to Pog, it was why a gun—a weapon that was usually useless against vampires—was able to slay the ones in the alleyway.

"I never have to reload it either," She said. "Moonlight will refill any empty chambers."

"This city has a vampire infestation like I've never seen," Abelard said. "We think they're looking for something."

A small chill went up Pog's spine.

"Abelard," Pog asked suddenly. "Do you believe in coincidences?"

"No, I do not."

"Damn."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_11:15PM, London, Present Day_

"That looks like the time my rookery brother Rhynos tried to learn ballet," Pog commented looking at a series of broken glass vases inside a shattered china cabinet. "That's why we don't have a crystal chandelier in the Library anymore."

"Why would he try to learn ballet?" Griff wondered as the three gargoyles stepped down a darkened aisle filled with books.

"To impress a female," Pog said. "Why else?"

"And why are we talking about yuir rookery siblings?" Hudson whispered.

Pog smiled. "Because it distracts me from what I know we're going to find."

"I smell blood," Griff whispered. Pog nodded, he smelled it too.

"I wish yuir clan had beasts," Hudson commented as the three gargoyles walked down the bookstore aisle. They came to the end of the passageway to find it blocked of by several red filaments of an organic substance blocking their path. Blood dripped from the fibers.

"Hudson," Pog said. The Scottish gargoyle understood immediately. He took his curved blade and began slicing through the cocoon-like cords.

"What is that stuff?" Griff wondered.

"You do not want to know," Pog answered…which was more than enough for Griff.

Pog, holding his staff in a battle stance, stepped out into an area of the bookstore that was designated for people to read their purchases. At least that's what it had been originally intended for: but the beanbag chairs and low tables had been shoved aside and several corpses wrapped up in the same blood-drenched cocoons lay on the ground and hung from the ceiling. Some of the people wrapped in the cocoons struggled…though it was still uncertain if they were truly alive.

"I think I'm going to be ill," Griff gagged.

"I don't see Leo or Arthur," Pog said as all three of them stepped into the room, Griff bringing up the rear.

"Griff look out," Leo's voice called out. Griff raised his lightning gun in preparation for an attack. The vampires lunged at the gargoyles from atop the bookshelves, knocking all three of them to the ground. Griff's lightning gun clattered and spun underneath a radiator on the far wall.

Pog groaned, reaching for his staff as Hudson turned…the Scottish garg had not let go of his weapon as Griff and Pog had. There were eight or nine vampires atop the gargoyles. Each struggling to keep the stone warriors pinned to the ground.

Hudson managed to take off one's head and another's hand before the lamia wrestled the sword away from him. The vampires forced the three gargoyles to their feet, dragging them fully into the reading room. A single light hung from the ceiling, barely illuminating the horrors around them. Pog would have preferred a tad more darkness.

"I don't believe it, Pog," a voice crooned. "I mean, I'd hoped that you were still around, but seriously? One hundred and sixty years is a long time. But you're really here, in the flesh."

A familiar figure stepped out of the shadows and Pog gasped.

"It can't be!"

_**To Be Continued…**_


End file.
